


The Edge of the Light

by gemjam



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Consent Issues, Depression, M/M, Prostitution, Recovery, Sex Addiction, Sex and Love Addiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 08:09:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 86,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25920088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gemjam/pseuds/gemjam
Summary: After Kurt calls off their wedding, Blaine spirals into a bad place that he never manages to get out of. He accepts his life, working the streets at night and sleeping his days away, until a chance encounter two years later leads Kurt back into his life, and Blaine has to re-evaluate everything to see if he can really earn a happy ending.
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel, Blaine Anderson/Other(s)
Comments: 97
Kudos: 128





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story has been fully written and is complete, I am just going through the editing process of the chapters and making sure the pacing works, but this is not a WIP and weekly updates are guaranteed.
> 
> The consent issues refers to the prostitution and the fact that Blaine doesn't really have control over who he's with or what he does.

**“When you come to the edge of all the light you have, and must take a step into the darkness of the unknown, believe that one of two things will happen. Either there will be something solid for you to stand on - or you will be taught how to fly.”**

_Patrick Overton_

The air in New York is thick and sticky, like it needs a good storm to clear it out. It clings to Blaine like a second skin. He hates this kind of weather, when he never feels like his lungs can pull in enough air and the gel is threatening to melt right off his head. But worse than any of that, Blaine hates it because his tricks smell like anyone would after a long, sweaty day and the contents of their pants are even less appealing than usual.

He sighs, leaning against a lamp post as he looks up at the darkening sky. The colours are so beautiful, streaked through the clouds that are too fine to hold the promise of rain. Too soon, his eyes fall down to the street in front of him, the shitty surroundings. His denial is about as featherlight as those clouds these days.

He wants something to take his mind off it, but there’s hardly any cars around. He’s going to be stood here for a while. It’s still early, especially by New York standards, but he couldn’t stand staying in his apartment any longer with the AC unit that makes more noise than it does cool air. It’s even more oppressive out here though.

“Blaine?”

He turns, confused, because that’s a girl’s voice and he can’t remember the last time he spoke to a girl. He can’t remember the last time he spoke to anyone who wasn’t a trick or a cashier. But then, in front of him, he sees the beaming face of Mercedes Jones. He stares, like one of her starstruck fans.

“Oh my god, can you believe this?” Mercedes demands, slapping the chest of the person beside her.

And that’s when Blaine sees Kurt for the first time in… he doesn’t even know. He didn’t want to count. They’ve run into each other a few times since… since. There’s been glee reunions and get togethers where they’ve been in the same space. Blaine stopped going to those pretty soon though. He stopped doing a lot of things. And Kurt got all their friends in the break-up. It was only fair, Blaine supposed. They belonged to Kurt in the first place. Blaine was only ever borrowing them. Sam and Tina are the only ones who still contact him, but he hasn’t seen either of them in what feels like a lifetime.

“I cannot,” Kurt says, perfectly deadpan, but then his lips quirk up into a smile like this doesn’t hurt him at all. Maybe it doesn’t.

“Hi,” Blaine says, bemused as he moves away from the lamp post towards them, steps tentative. “What are you guys doing here?”

“Mercedes is in town as part of the promotional tour for her new album,” Kurt says. “And she decided to bless me with her presence. I am truly honoured.”

“No, but, what are you doing _here_?” Blaine asks, eyes flicking down the seedy street they’re on.

“Oh, there is an amazing taco truck down here, the only highlight of this neighbourhood,” Kurt says. “And I could not let Mercedes visit New York without trying them.”

“As though I haven’t lived here and need a tour guide,” Mercedes says. “And you’re coming with us, right?”

Blaine shakes his head, shrinking back. “I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“You wouldn’t be,” Mercedes insists.

“And you look like you could use a decent meal,” Kurt adds.

Blaine looks down at himself. He’s lost weight. He’s definitely lost muscle. He has a couple of tricks that covet his sharp hipbones though. The others just love that they can throw him around. Being skinny is good for business, not just his outsides matching his insides. Insubstantial.

“Come on, I’m hungry,” Mercedes says.

Blaine looks down the street again. Work’s not going to pick up for a while anyway, he won’t be missing out on any money, and despite the sweat gathering on his brow, he craves the warmth of their company. Just getting to stare at Kurt’s beauty across a table would be the highlight of his year, even though the aftermath will hurt him longer than he wants to admit.

“Yeah,” he says, checking Kurt’s face carefully for any distaste. “Let’s go.”

“Great,” Kurt says, clapping his hands together before linking arms with Mercedes, leading the way.

They’re such an amazingly glamorous couple, dressed in stylish outfits that are no doubt from Kurt’s latest collection. Blaine goes into Macys every season to check out the new items and stare wistfully at the price tags that he could never afford. Kurt is so talented and unique and Blaine wants nothing more than to have Kurt’s name written on him like it always felt etched into his heart.

They order their food and sit at the little curbside table with it, quiet while they tuck in. Blaine has ended up in this very spot at the end of many nights. It’s strange to think that Kurt comes here, that their paths have been so close to crossing so many times. It makes Blaine feel a little sick, the shame of being caught doing what he does, the devastation of Kurt seeing him like that.

“Oh wow, you were right,” Mercedes says, nodding enthusiastically, going in for another huge bite.

“Still want to critique my tour guiding skills?” Kurt asks smugly.

Blaine watches them both across from him, feeling so emotional all of a sudden. Their friendship is so easy and familiar and comfortable. It makes the loneliness twist inside him. He forgets that he’s all alone sometimes, it just becomes a way of life, but now it’s like someone’s pointing out all his old scars again, the awareness making them throb painfully.

The feeling starts to unwind throughout the evening though, the pain receding to remind him of a time he was happy. Kurt and Mercedes are so full of life and joy and stories that make Blaine laugh harder than he has in a long time. And neither of them ever look at him like he doesn’t belong there, like they resent him. They look at him like he’s their friend. It makes the world feel a little bit upside down but he clings to it while he can.

“It is so great to catch up with you guys,” Mercedes says, reaching out and placing a hand on each of their arms. “I love reunions.”

“They say you can never go home again, but I think home is more of a feeling,” Kurt says. “I think we’re all home.”

Mercedes smiles, resting her head down on Kurt’s shoulder. Kurt leans into her. Blaine’s eyes flick away, not wanting to look from the outside in.

“How come you two live in the same city and it took a random encounter for you to have your little reunion?” Mercedes asks.

Kurt purses his lips together, as though the answer isn’t obvious. “I don’t know,” he finally says thoughtfully. “We should do that. How about I give you a call?”

Blaine blinks at him. “Oh, uh, yeah,” he says. “But I lost my phone ages ago, I have a new number and I don’t have anyone’s contact info anymore.”

“Well then hand it over,” Kurt says, stretching his hand across the table and making a gimme motion. “Unless that was a lame excuse to avoid having to turn me down, in which case I can play along.”

“No,” Blaine says quickly, fumbling in the pocket of his skin tight pants to pull his phone out, unlocking it and handing it to Kurt. He watches, entranced, as Kurt’s fingertips play over his phone screen, and it makes him feel warm inside that Kurt is touching something of his. It makes him feel an aching longing that he thought he’d killed off long ago. This could either be his salvation or the final nail in his coffin.

“There we go,” Kurt says, handing Blaine’s phone back with a flourish. “Let’s not be strangers.”

Blaine nods, still a little enchanted. “I’d like that.”

When it’s time to part ways, Mercedes pulls him into a hug that no force in the universe could resist. It’s nice though. He can’t remember the last time he had human contact that he wasn’t being paid for. He can’t remember the last time someone touched him and cared. It makes him want to break down in tears and he knows he hangs on way too long.

As they part, Blaine looks over at Kurt, knowing his face must be the pathetic, needy one that Kurt always hated, but Kurt just smiles and opens his arms with an incline of his head that tells Blaine everything he needs to know. He steps forward, right into Kurt’s arms. He still smells so familiar. He still feels like home. Blaine squeezes his eyes shut and lets himself believe it for just a second.

Despite the oppressive heat around them, Blaine still feels cold when he takes a step back. Kurt’s eyes linger on him and Blaine isn’t sure what he sees, probably what a mess he is, but Blaine just lifts his hand in goodbye, stepping back to the spot he was in earlier. The one where he belongs. He can’t help looking up though, watching their retreating backs as they talk animatedly to one another. It feels like they’re already in a different universe to him.

“Hey.”

Blaine turns to see that a car has pulled up beside him, window rolled down. He watches as Kurt and Mercedes round the corner out of sight and then steps up to the car, turning on his seductive smile. “Hi.”

The guy holds up a fifty dollar bill. “What does this get me?”

“Handjob or oral,” Blaine responds. “Either or, not two for one.”

“Can I come in your face?” the guy asks with a smirk that Blaine knows is supposed to make him feel objectified and powerless.

“If you throw in another twenty and don’t get any in my mouth,” Blaine responds matter of factly. He’s way past the point of being embarrassed by any of this.

“I’ll give you fifteen and you’ll thank me afterwards,” the guy says.

Blaine shrugs. He’s not about to lose a job over five bucks. “Sounds fair.” He walks around the car and hops into the passenger seat.

It’s nearly 4am when he finally gets home, covered in not just his own sweat but his tricks’ as well. Amongst other things. The sun has long since set but it hasn’t made his apartment any cooler. He jumps in the shower, turning the water to cold, and scrubs his body twice over. He still doesn’t feel clean. He never feels clean. His body is something he’s kind of disconnected from at this point. He’s sold it too many times over to claim any real ownership.

He flops down naked on his rumpled bed, hair still damp, and stares at Kurt’s number in his phone. Kurt saved his name with a little scarf emoji next to it and it’s so ridiculously charming. And intimate. And it makes the longing almost crush Blaine under the weight of it.

He’d left this behind. He moved on. He knows that isn’t true though. Barely a day goes by that he doesn’t idly think of Kurt, of what he’s lost, of everything that Kurt has gained without him. And Blaine is happy for him. He really, truly is, despite what a shitshow his own life has turned out being. He doesn’t blame Kurt for that. Blaine was a grown-up, he made his own decisions when they went their separate ways, albeit very bad ones. But that’s on Blaine. It has to be. Blaine can’t handle being so hopelessly, devastatingly in love with the villain of his own story.

This is probably a very bad idea. Blaine _knows_ that it’s a bad idea. If he loses the idealised version of Kurt in his head then he’s not sure he has anything left. But Kurt can’t love him like this. He’s used up and damaged beyond repair. He’s not worthy of someone as wonderful as Kurt. But just as surely as Blaine knows that he shouldn’t do this, he also knows that he will.

_Hey, it’s Blaine. It was nice seeing you tonight._

He adds a kiss. And then deletes it. And then adds it again. He stares at it. It makes his stomach turn over. He can’t have Kurt. Not now. All he can really hope for is getting his friend back. He deletes the kiss and closes his eyes, sending the text.

He tosses his phone on the bed beside him and slides beneath the covers, trying to stop his racing mind so that he can get some sleep. He can smell himself in the sheets though, day old sweat from tossing and turning in the heat all of last night. And the nights before that. He needs to get to the laundromat. The shame of it is all so familiar though that it might be the thing that lulls him off to sleep.

He wakes to his phone ringing the next morning, hand scrambling in the sheets to find it as he refuses to open his eyes. He squints at the screen once he has it grasped in his sweaty hand, Kurt’s name and that scarf emoji looking back at him. His mouth goes dry and he swallows uncomfortably.

“Hello?”

“I woke you up,” Kurt says matter of factly. “I knew I was going to wake you up. I would have called later but I have a lunch meeting, which I hate because there’s never enough eating _or_ talking. They do not save time. And then I’m in the studio all afternoon finalising designs for the new collection, so good morning. I waited until ten at least.”

“Hi,” Blaine says. That’s a lot of information to take in five seconds after he’s woken up.

“You are quite the night owl apparently,” Kurt says.

“Yeah,” Blaine agrees. “It’s the city that never sleeps. Why not?”

“Why not indeed,” Kurt says. “You do you, that’s what I always say.”

He’s so confident and chatty and maybe nervous? Is this constant talking nerves? Excitement?

“So, how are you?” Kurt asks.

“Uh, yeah, good,” Blaine says.

“You were really quiet yesterday,” Kurt says. “I didn’t know if there was something going on.”

“No,” Blaine dismisses. “You two just caught me off guard.”

“Okay,” Kurt says, and Blaine can practically hear him chewing his lip. “So, did you want to get dinner some night? Somewhere other than a taco truck? You can say no.”

“I know I can say no,” Blaine responds.

“Are you going to?” Kurt asks.

“No,” Blaine says. “No, I won’t say no,” Blaine rushes to correct. “I mean, if you think that’s something you’d like.”

“Of course I’d like it, why do you think I’m calling you?” Kurt says. “But if you don’t want to, I get it.”

“Why do you keep saying that?” Blaine asks.

There’s a pause, heavy and loaded. “You told me you’d never forgive me,” Kurt says, a tightness in his voice. “And then you basically never spoke to me again. You stopped coming back to Lima. You _lost_ your phone and everybody’s numbers.”

“I really did lose my phone,” Blaine says. “Well, it was stolen on the subway, but either way it’s long gone.”

“Mugging or pickpocket?” Kurt asks, his tone carefully measured.

“More like grab and run,” Blaine says. “I should have been paying more attention. Whatever, that was like two years ago. I have a new phone now. And I’m talking to you.”

Another loaded pause. “What about the rest of it?”

“The rest of what?” Blaine asks.

“Our last conversation was…” Kurt trails off, his confidence draining.

“Ancient history,” Blaine says. “I’ve done a lot of growing up. And I know you have too.”

“How do you know that?” Kurt asks.

“You really think I didn’t read your Vogue cover article?” Blaine asks, warmth spreading in his chest at the thought of it. “I’m really proud of you.”

Another pause, but this time Blaine gets the impression that Kurt is trying to get that quiver in his voice under control. It makes Blaine want to hold him so much.

“So, are we having dinner?” Kurt finally asks.

“Yeah, we’re having dinner,” Blaine says, not quite daring to let the excitement fully settle in. Realistic expectations. His life isn’t one that could possibly have Kurt in it. Not like that.

“Great,” Kurt says. “Now go back to sleep. And maybe go to bed before 4am tonight.”

“We’ll see,” Blaine says, smiling into the phone. As they hang up, Blaine rolls over, burying his face in the pillow. He feels younger than he has in a very long time.

They arrange to meet up two days later outside a restaurant in Midtown. It’s the first occasion Blaine’s had to dress up for in a long time. It’s nice to go into the depths of his closest and pick out something to feel good in, something that’s actually going to stay on his body for an extended period of time. Everything is sweatpants or slut clothes now.

He pushes the thought away, pulling out some of the nice button-ups from his old life. The life of privilege and designer brands and having someone to care if he came home at the end of the night. It’s occurred to him more than once that if he went missing, or died in his apartment, it would take weeks before anyone noticed.

But these clothes belong to a boy of hope and smiles and a constant song on his lips and in his heart. He wants to be that boy again tonight, even if it’s just for a few hours, even if it’s just pretend.

He picks out a striped shirt, something classic and summery, but as soon as he pulls it on, he can tell how long it’s been since he last wore it. He used to fill this out, it clung to him like it was made for his body, but now it’s loose in places that it shouldn’t be. He looks like he’s a kid wearing his big brother’s clothes. He can practically hear Cooper’s mocking voice. He manages to salvage the look, tucking it into his pants and cinching it all in with a belt. He rolls up the sleeves and adds a complementary bowtie to finish off the look. Perfect. It will make Kurt nostalgic if not impressed.

Kurt is dressed with a million tiny touches that it would take Blaine all night to make note of, but mostly he’s mesmerised by his smile and the shining look in his eyes. It makes Blaine want to cling to him.

“Hey,” Kurt says brightly when he sees him. His eyes scan Blaine up and down. “You look nice.”

“Yeah?” Blaine asks, glancing at himself. “You look amazing. Is this, uh, an exclusive?” he asks, gesturing towards Kurt’s outfit.

“I don’t wear prototypes, my collection is not getting leaked until everything is perfect,” Kurt says primly.

Blaine laughs. “I missed you.” He feels all the air go out of him. “That, uh, I wasn’t supposed to say that.”

“Why weren’t you supposed to say that?” Kurt asks, looking amused. “I missed you.”

“Oh. Thank you,” he says, and then frowns at himself. What the hell is that supposed to mean?

Kurt gives a bright little laugh. “You’re welcome. Now, we should go eat before they give our table away.”

“Right, good idea,” Blaine agrees, following him into the restaurant.

Once they’ve ordered and their drinks have arrived, Blaine has no excuse not to look at Kurt across the table. No distractions. Just two old friends. Old lovers. No one in his life has ever made Blaine feel as good or as bad as Kurt did.

“So, Blaine Anderson,” Kurt says. “What’s going on in your life? You weren’t sharing much last night.”

“Well, I don’t have anything exciting to share like you and Mercedes,” Blaine says. “No one should have their shit together as much as you two do in your early twenties.”

“Who says I have my shit together?” Kurt asks, giving him a self-deprecating look. “Come on, night owl, what is it you do until four in the morning.”

“Oh, uh, work,” Blaine says, feeling himself blush. He tries to hide it behind his glass as he takes a sip of his drink.

“Where do you work that you’re up until that time?” Kurt asks. “Don’t get me wrong, I do my fair share of all nighters, especially at this time of year, but I don’t make a habit of it.”

“It’s…” Blaine casts his eyes around, looking for inspiration. “It’s performance based,” he says. It’s not a lie.

“You’re performing?” Kurt asks, his face lighting up. “That’s so great. Maybe I could come see you some time.”

“It’s not a public thing,” Blaine says. “And I never let anyone see my prototypes.”

“Touché,” Kurt responds, leaning forward with an arched eyebrow. It looks a lot like flirting. Blaine never knows for sure until there’s money in his hand though.

Kurt does most of the heavy lifting conversation wise during dinner, he seems to have unlimited anecdotes, or maybe just unlimited passion. He’s doing what he loves. Blaine is so genuinely happy for him, even if there’s a sting of jealousy that he missed out on it all. But if they’d stayed together, Kurt probably wouldn’t be here right now. Maybe they’d both be in the gutter.

Blaine finds himself getting caught up in Kurt’s mood, coming out of his shell. There’s certain things he needs to be carefully guarded about, but he can still be himself. That’s something he hasn’t felt like in a long time.

“I need something to wash all that cheesecake down with,” Kurt says as they step out into the still too hot night, the streets bustling around them.

“That was a lot of cheesecake,” Blaine agrees.

Kurt turns to face him. “Do you want to get a drink?”

Blaine can’t help the smile that lifts the corners of his mouth. “Yeah. Sounds good.” There’s no harm in leaning into the fantasy for a little while longer.

They end up at a rooftop bar with fancy cocktails that taste like candy. Blaine is pretty sure they’re deadly, but he can’t stop sipping.

“I can’t believe you don’t know what’s going on with everyone,” Kurt says. “How does Tina let you live?”

“She’s tried, believe me,” Blaine says.

“Well, you are about to get a crash course,” Kurt says.

Blaine sits back, listening attentively, but he’s less interested in their old friends and more rapt by the animated way in which Kurt tells the stories. It’s so easy to get lost in those eyes and that smile and that wicked sense of humour. Blaine drains his glass and then just chews absently on the straw, wondering if he has the energy to get up and get a fresh drink. He feels like he’s melting into his chair.

“There needs to be a storm, it is so humid,” he groans.

“My apartment has excellent aircon,” Kurt says.

“Lucky you,” Blaine says. “My building is a nightmare.”

“Don’t be a dunce, Anderson,” Kurt says. “I’m inviting you back to my place.”

“Oh,” Blaine says, trying to process the words, the look on Kurt’s face. This is actually happening. “Oh.” He leans forward, placing his empty glass on the table. “Okay, let’s go.”

Kurt hails them a cab outside and as they wind through the Manhattan streets towards the Upper East Side – slower than the subway but at least they don’t have to think – Blaine is caught between living this lie for one night or trying to actually build something here. The truth can’t lead to anything good, he knows exactly what Kurt would think of him, but he can’t hide it. It would be so much worse when it tumbled down after they’d both gotten invested and Blaine doesn’t think he’d ever recover from that. He wishes he could hold onto Kurt just a tiny bit longer though.

Kurt’s apartment is indeed mercifully cool, and Blaine sighs as they step into the stylishly designed place. Of course it’s flawless.

“Do you want a drink?” Kurt asks, walking past him towards the kitchen.

“No,” Blaine says. He’d actually love one. Or five. But he needs to bite the bullet. There’s no point making himself comfortable here if it all just goes to shit when he finally builds up the courage. “I have to tell you something.”

Kurt turns around to face him slowly, an uncertain look on his face. “Okay.” He nods towards the couch and Blaine follows him over to sit down. “You’re seeing someone,” Kurt guesses.

“No, it’s not that,” Blaine says. His palms are sweating and he wipes them on his pants.

“Then what is it?” Kurt asks.

Blaine looks at him, his eyes wary like a man who’s been hurt before. Blaine doesn’t want to recognise that look. He can’t breathe. He lowers his gaze, already ashamed.

“Just say it,” Kurt tells him.

Blaine lets out a shuddery breath that catches as a sob. “You’re going to hate me in about ten seconds.”

“Blaine, I could never hate you,” Kurt says. He reaches out, placing his hand on Blaine’s shoulder, a heavy, sure weight. “Just tell me what’s wrong.”

Blaine takes a deep breath, lifting his head up to meet Kurt’s eyes. “I have sex with men for money.”

Kurt’s eyes widen, staring. His hand slips from Blaine’s shoulder. He’s recoiling. Of course he is. Any self-respecting person would. The shame settles heavy in Blaine’s gut and he feels like he’s going to throw up all over Kurt’s doubtlessly expensive rug.

“I should go,” Blaine says, shaking his head as he gets to his feet. “I’m sorry.”

“Blaine, wait,” Kurt calls after him. “Blaine.”

Blaine doesn’t stop. His vision is blurring and he feels off balance as he swings the door closed behind him, fumbling with the elevator button. He braces himself against the wall, trying to breathe, but he can’t just stand here, he needs to be moving, he needs to be putting distance between himself and the newest mess he’s made.

He pulls the door to the stairs open and jogs down, sweating all over. It’s only once he’s outside that he realises some of that dampness on his face is tears. He wipes them away, looking at his surroundings, but he has no idea where he is. He walks, trying to just keep breathing in and out, until he finds a subway station and navigates his way back home.

He sleeps fitfully that night, covered in sweat and shame and guilt. He wakes to his phone ringing but he’s sluggish and disorientated and maybe hungover and he doesn’t even know where it is. He leans over the side of the bed, grabbing his crumpled pants and grasping at the pockets until he finds the shape of it, pulling it out. It’s Kurt and his little scarf emoji. Blaine wants to throw it across the room. He also wants to hug it to his chest and never let go. He answers the call.

“Yeah?”

“Hi,” Kurt says, sounding surprised. “I probably woke you again, I’m sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Blaine dismisses, rolling onto his back.

“Can we meet up?” Kurt asks.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” Blaine says.

“You answered the phone,” Kurt points out.

“That was… it was ringing,” Blaine says defensively. “And I’m not your problem anymore.”

“It’s not a problem,” Kurt says. “ _You’re_ not a problem.”

There’s so much emotion in his voice, so much protectiveness, that Blaine can’t stand it. He squeezes his eyes closed, holding his breath. He doesn’t know what to say. There’s no way that he can do anything but let Kurt down here.

“Are you okay?” Kurt asks. “Are you safe? I mean, it must be dangerous. Do you have a pimp?”

“I’m freelance,” Blaine says. “And I’m fine.”

Kurt sighs. It sounds wet. “Blaine, what happened?”

There’s no accusation in his voice. If anything, there’s love. It makes Blaine break.

“After…” he begins, but he can’t talk about that day, not even now. He can’t say the words. “After I was cut from NYADA,” he says instead. “I couldn’t go home. I couldn’t face my parents when I’d messed everything up. So I stayed and I got a shitty apartment and I worked shitty jobs and one night, at this all night diner I was working at, some guy propositioned me. He offered me money. And I hadn’t been touched in so long and I had bills that needed paying and I figured, what’s the worst that could happen, right? I’m still alive. My bills got paid.” There’s tears sliding down his face but he wipes them angrily away. He chose this. He doesn’t get to act hard done about it now.

“Blaine,” Kurt says, the single word so heartbroken.

“It’s a living,” Blaine says, but the quiver in his voice is fooling neither of them. “It’s who I am.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Kurt says and Blaine is certain now that he’s crying too. What the hell are they doing?

Blaine closes his eyes again, lets himself imagine a world where Kurt saves him. His knight in shining armour. He’d take Blaine up to his ivory tower on the Upper East Side and he’d love him and protect him and take care of him. Even in his fantasy, he can’t imagine what he could possibly offer Kurt in return though. He opens his eyes, staring up at the cracked ceiling above him.

“Are you at work?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Kurt says, accompanied by a sniffle. “But I’m in my office. I can talk for as long as you want.”

Kurt would save him. But then Blaine would ruin them both.

“Go back to work,” Blaine tells him.

“Okay,” Kurt says. He waits. Blaine stays silent. “I’ll talk to you later.” It’s not a question, it’s a fact. Blaine doesn’t have the energy to fight it if he wants to.

The next day, Kurt somehow manages to convince him to meet up for lunch. Blaine is certain it’s going to be some kind of intervention, but Kurt doesn’t even bring up their conversation from the previous day, doesn’t even elude to the fact that Blaine is a manwhore. He just talks about work, about the preparations that have already started for New York Fashion Week, about the special pieces he wants to do and the models he has to get signed up to his show or he’ll _die_. The whole thing fills Blaine with such pride and fondness.

It’s not until the end of the meal, as they’re waiting for the check to come, that Kurt’s tone changes to one that’s deliberately casual and Blaine has a feeling this is the one thing he wanted to talk about all along.

“I was at a friend’s bar last night,” Kurt says. “He lost another bartender due to graduation. The perils of hiring students. If you were looking for a job, I could hook you up.”

And there it is. Blaine can’t help but smile, looking down at the table. Kurt can’t possibly think he’s being subtle. But it’s such a pure thing to want to do and he’s doing it in the kindest way possible. He’s offering Blaine a way to help himself. Blaine is humbled and humiliated, but he looks up at Kurt and this man still lights up his life like nothing else.

“Do you want me to text you the details?” Kurt asks, busying himself with his wallet.

“Sure,” Blaine says.

Kurt grins at him. “Great.”

Blaine gets the job. That was never really in question. He was pretty sure Kurt had already secured it for him before Blaine even called up to enquire. But Joshua seems like a decent guy and the bar always has a great atmosphere. Blaine likes being there, likes the security of it, likes being a part of something. The pay isn’t amazing but he makes up for it in tips. All that charm he used to use to get into people’s cars is put to good use, but this time it doesn’t matter if they’re male or female, gay or straight, it’s a promise he never has to fulfil. There’s something kind of liberating about that, even if he still feels dirty at the end of the night when he counts his tips.

Blaine gets into a new rhythm that replaces his old one and he starts to believe that maybe this could be his life. Maybe he could actually deserve Kurt. They’ve been talking more, meeting up. That spark is still there, for Blaine at least. But then, less than two weeks in, it all starts to crumble around him.

It’s a quiet Tuesday night, still early, when he looks up and sees himself faced with one of his regulars. Blaine is struck with invasive images, steamed up windows, sweat and come in the back of a car, rough fingers in his hair, bruises on his hips. He feels disgusting, but worse than that, he feels a tiny bit turned on.

“I thought I hadn’t seen you in a while, beautiful,” the guy says, looking him up and down. Blaine doesn’t even know his name. He probably doesn’t know Blaine’s either.

Blaine swallows, trying to keep his cool. “Yeah, I went legit.”

The guy nods and pulls a hundred dollar bill out of his wallet, holding it up between two fingers. “So do you legit want this?”

Blaine stares at it. His heart is beating so hard in his chest. He gets a wage. He gets tips. But yes, he wants it, and he’s not even sure he’s talking about the money. He told Kurt this is who he was. It’s not Blaine’s fault if he didn’t listen.

Blaine turns to the other bartender. “I’m going on my break.”

“Cool,” he says, waving Blaine off.

Blaine nods his head for the trick to follow him. Luckily, he still carries lube and condoms in his bag. Old habits die hard. He drags the guy out into the alley and then quickly ends up with his face smashed into the wall, his pants yanked down below his ass. The guy isn’t gentle. Blaine doesn’t care. He closes his eyes and goes to that place in his head and tries to be exactly what he knows the trick wants. He makes the right sounds, moves his hips enticingly back, hissing out encouragement. It doesn’t last long, it never does, and Blaine doesn’t come but he’s more than okay with that. He tucks his half-hard cock into the waistband of his underwear as he pulls his pants up. The guy lifts up the money, stroking Blaine’s cheek with it so lightly that it makes him shudder. He grabs it as the guy laughs.

It doesn’t take long for word to get out. Old tricks start showing up at the bar, as well as new ones. It’s subtle enough that it doesn’t draw attention to him, but he’s making more than his paycheck out in the alley on his breaks. It gets increasingly hard to look Kurt in the eye. They’re beautiful eyes though and Blaine lights up every time Kurt comes into the bar, with friends or colleagues or sometimes by himself. He looks at Blaine with such fondness and Blaine feels like the worst person in the world for letting Kurt believe that he’s magically righted his life and is on a good and honest path. He can’t tell him the truth now though. Not when Kurt thinks he’s saving him.

On Blaine’s night off, Kurt invites him out to dinner and Blaine has no idea if this is a date, but it feels like a date. He dresses up, styles his hair carefully, takes pride in his appearance. He wants to look nice for Kurt, not because it makes his value go up. He looks at himself in the mirror and feels a little thrill. Is he always going to feel like this about his first love?

This time, Blaine feels like he holds up his end of the conversation more. He can talk about work, tell funny stories about his week, open up and be real with him. Well, about almost everything. Kurt doesn’t need to know about the _special tips_ he makes out in the alley most nights. He’s getting back on his feet, he needs the cash, he’ll stop if this actually becomes a thing with Kurt. God, he hopes it becomes a thing.

When they finish dinner, Kurt skips the bar this time and just invites Blaine straight back to his place. Blaine enthusiastically accepts.

“I really like your apartment,” Blaine says as they step inside. He didn’t get a chance for any of the niceties last time. “It looks great.”

“Oh, thanks,” Kurt says, crossing to the kitchen and grabbing two glasses. “Rachel helped me paint it. It was hilarious. Jesse kept telling us how terrible we both were at it.”

“I didn’t think it was possible for you to be terrible at something,” Blaine says smoothly.

Kurt gives him a look over his shoulder before turning back to whatever drinks he’s mixing. “Nobody’s perfect, I guess. And if I have to be terrible at something, I’m glad it’s manual labour.”

“Imagine having a job where you could break a nail,” Blaine says in mock horror.

“Oh, honey, you do not want to know about the calluses on these hands from being stabbed repeatedly with needles,” Kurt says, grabbing the drinks and handing one to Blaine. “Sit.”

They sit on the couch together as Blaine eyes his drink suspiciously. “What is this?”

“Dirty Shirley,” Kurt says, taking a sip of his. “Shirley Temple with vodka.”

Blaine smiles. “Of course.” He clinks his glass against Kurt’s. “Cheers.”

“Oh,” Kurt says, clinking back. “To old friends and chance encounters.”

Blaine lifts the glass to his lips. It’s even sweeter than the cocktails they were drinking on that rooftop bar. “This Shirley is very Dirty,” he says, feeling the hit of the vodka.

Kurt smirks at him. “So am I.”

Blaine exhales a laugh, his eyes falling downwards. He licks his lips unthinkingly, arousal thrumming low in his belly. Kurt reaches forward, taking the drink out of Blaine’s hand and placing it on the coffee table along with his own. Blaine watches him.

“You went to all the trouble of making those just to take it off me?”

“You can have it back in a minute,” Kurt says, turning his body on the couch to face Blaine’s, resting his elbow on the backrest in a way that makes his body language so completely open. “If you want.”

The air sits heavy around them, despite Kurt’s amazing AC. Blaine looks at Kurt’s eyes, and then his lips, and then back to his eyes, inching closer. “And what are we going to do for a minute?” he whispers, because he feels like the world might crumble right now if he speaks out loud.

“We could kiss,” Kurt whispers back, his body leaning forward.

Blaine’s breath catches in his throat. “You’d want to kiss me?” he asks, his voice cracking.

“Of course I want to kiss you,” Kurt says. “Since I ran into you with Mercedes that night.”

“But I’m…” Blaine gestures helplessly to himself. He can’t bring himself to say the words.

“Amazing,” Kurt says. “And strong.”

Blaine’s eyes fall down, tears pricking at them. Right. Because Kurt thinks he’s reformed. Kurt thinks that he saved Blaine. He thinks that he’s worthy of this. But Blaine is just a liar and a whore and, if this is about to become a thing right now, like Blaine so desperately wants, he’s going to be a cheater again too.

“Hey,” Kurt says gently, putting his hand on Blaine’s jaw to lift his head. “I’m not thinking about that. You think I haven’t made mistakes? You think I don’t have things I regret? But all I am thinking about right now is this gorgeous boy in front of me who I really want to kiss. Anything outside this moment doesn’t matter right now. Okay?”

Blaine nods his head. And then he closes the gap between them and kisses Kurt.

It’s so sweet and tentative at first. Lips brushing together, hands not venturing lower than shoulders. Blaine can’t remember the last time he was kissed. He’s done just about everything else, had it all done to him, but not kissing. Kissing is intimate. Despite all the sex he’s been having, Blaine hasn’t felt intimacy in a long time.

He makes a needy little noise, shifting closer and sucking Kurt’s bottom lip. They both taste like sugar. It makes Blaine want to giggle helplessly, makes his heart swell. Then Kurt parts his lips and Blaine just melts, letting his jaw go slack, letting Kurt lick his way inside. It’s overwhelming, making him shudder, gripping the collar of Kurt’s shirt with both hands.

Kurt’s arms go around him, hands strong and sure all over his torso, his tongue sliding deep and sensual across Blaine’s over and over again. It’s almost too much to bear. Then the world tilts and it takes Blaine a moment to realise that Kurt still has him, that Kurt is pressing him down into the couch, covering his body with his own. Blaine moans, spreading his legs, letting Kurt settle between his thighs. It’s like that’s where he’s always belonged. No one else has ever fit there like him.

Kurt pulls his mouth away from Blaine’s, kissing down his neck as his hands pull at Blaine’s shirt, freeing it from his pants. He slides his hands inside, palms moving over his belly, grasping at his chest. Now it doesn’t feel like love anymore. It’s a hot, wet mouth on his neck. It’s needy hands on his skin. This he knows too well. He pushes Kurt back, drawing his knees up to his chest as though he needs to protect himself.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I don’t think this is a good idea. I should go.”

“No, please don’t go,” Kurt says desperately, looking at him wild-eyed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. Of course you didn’t want me to do that. Why the hell would you want someone groping you?”

“No, it’s not…” Blaine dismisses shaking his head. “I liked kissing you. A lot. Just maybe we should take it a little slower.”

“Right,” Kurt agrees. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like I was disrespecting you or that you owe me anything, you don’t owe me anything.”

“I know,” Blaine says, sliding his feet down off the couch. “I’m sorry I freaked you out.”

“Didn’t I freak you out?” Kurt asks, quirking an eyebrow at him.

Blaine gives a shrug and a self-deprecating little laugh.

“Do you want to watch a movie or something?” Kurt asks. “No expectations.”

“Yeah,” Blaine agrees. “I’d like that.”

Kurt smiles at him and reaches for Blaine’s drink, handing it back to him before rounding the table and contemplating his DVD collection.

Kurt is sweet and kind and more forgiving than Blaine deserves. And patient. So patient. It’s like high school all over again, hands above the equator, respectful distances kept. But it’s a solace for Blaine, a safe space. Sex has become so disconnected from love that he’s not sure he can ever put them back together.

He _wants_ Kurt. He wants him more than he did when they were horny teenagers, but maybe that’s just because he knows what he’s missing now. Sometimes they lie on Kurt’s couch all evening, making out, all tongues and hands but never hips. It makes Blaine so hard, makes him want to beg for it, but that just feels so cheap. He doesn’t want his relationship with Kurt to feel like earning tips in the alley behind the bar. He has no idea how he’s supposed to untangle it all now though.

He’s going to stop. He’s going to just be a bartender and Kurt Hummel’s boyfriend. And they’re going to have wonderful, healthy, respectful sex. They’re going to make love.

Kurt is perched at the bar one quiet evening while Blaine is pretending to wipe down the surface as an excuse to stand there opposite him. It’s a quiet night so his co-worker doesn’t seem to care. Kurt sips at his Shirley Temple, not Dirty this time.

“So I have all the RSVPs from the glee club for Fashion Week,” he’s saying. “Rachel’s coming, of course, and Jesse. Santana’s coming for the swag and we all know her and Brittany are attached at the hip. Still. Shouldn’t that honeymoon period be over by now?”

Blaine leans on the bar, just gazing at him. If he never had to leave Kurt’s side, he’d be the happiest man alive.

“Mercedes is coming,” Kurt continues. “And Sam. Oh, and when Tina heard you were going to be there, surprise surprise, she decided she can make time for it after all. Don’t worry, I’ll have her frisked for vaporub before she’s allowed into the venue.”

Blaine laughs. “How are you feeling?”

“Frantic and terrified,” Kurt responds. “And really jittery excited. And there’s been some night sweats. I know it’s my third time, but I still don’t really feel like I belong in those shows. It’s New York Fashion Week! It’s insane that they let me anywhere near it.”

“It’s insane how talented and prodigious you are,” Blaine says. “How many people can say they took part in their first New York Fashion Week while they were still a full-time student at NYADA? Exactly one. Kurt Hummel.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty amazing,” Kurt deadpans, a twinkle in his eye. He smiles, reaching out to put his hand on Blaine’s. “I can’t wait to have you on my arm at that show. You are some serious man candy.”

Blaine’s eyes fall down, because that’s what he’s worth. He’s pretty, he has sex appeal, good to look at, good to use. He tries to push the feeling away but that’s what he is. That’s what he’s achieved with his life. He can’t blame Kurt for pointing it out. He just wishes he had a little more to contribute to the relationship.

He forces himself to look up with a smile, squeezing Kurt’s hand. “I can’t wait to make you look good.”

Two nights before his big show, Kurt is back at Blaine’s bar with half of the glee club in tow. They’re all going out to dinner together tomorrow, when Blaine has the night off, but for now they’ve decided to include him as much as possible while he serves drinks and collects glasses, which is a little demeaning but he knows their hearts are in the right place. It’s nice that they want to see him at all. It’s nice that they care.

“Oh my god, is that Broadway legend Rachel Berry?” Blaine says in mock amazement.

“Oh, shut up,” she responds, but her grin tells him she’s loving the attention. She pulls him into a hug, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “It is so good to see you. And see that smile on Kurt’s face,” she says suggestively.

As soon as she steps aside, Tina has him in a death grip. “Blainey Days,” she says into his shoulder.

Blaine smiles, feeling such fondness as he wraps his arms around her. “Hey, Tina.”

Tina pulls back to look at him. “You need to be less of a stranger.”

“I know,” Blaine agrees with a nod. “I’m working on it.”

“Good,” she says, giving him a squeeze before finally stepping aside, allowing Sam to come in for a hug.

“Bro,” Sam says. “I don’t like agreeing with Tina but she’s right.”

“Hey,” Tina says, slapping his arm.

“I kind of fell off the grid,” Blaine says. “But here we all are.”

“Here we all are,” Sam agrees, raising his eyebrows.

Blaine checks in with the group as often as he can, seeing them laugh harder each time, talking over one another. And Blaine is on the periphery, he doesn’t belong in their world. He doesn’t know how to make himself fit in after everything that’s happened. He’s nothing like the bright, optimistic boy they used to know. His confidence turned into cynicism somewhere along the way and how are you supposed to get innocence back after it’s been ripped to shreds. He can play high school romance with Kurt all he wants, it won’t change what he is. It won’t give him back what he lost.

As he slips back behind the bar, he sees one of his regulars waiting for him. His heart hammers in his chest, his cheeks flushing pink. He looks over at Kurt and his friends. None of them are looking this way.

“Well?” the guys asks, waving some notes at him.

Blaine looks at the cash. It makes his fingers itch and his mouth water. What a fucked up response. He has a man over there who would cherish him and take care of him, but Blaine wants this. Blaine deserves this.

He’s working with Joshua, the owner, tonight, the man who gave him this second chance, and would probably fire him in a heartbeat if he knew what he was about to do. But Blaine is going to do it anyway.

“Hey,” Blaine says. “Do you mind if I take my break?”

“Sure, go ahead,” Joshua says. “I know your friends are waiting on you, I can handle it for a bit.”

“Thanks,” Blaine says, nodding towards the guy before they make their way to the alley.

Blaine is pushed down to his knees, the guy offering up his cock. Blaine reaches into his pocket, tearing open a condom and rolling it on, and then he sucks and licks and hums and moans. He lets the guy rock into his mouth and he gives him that look in his eyes that he knows always works. The guy comes with a shudder and a yank of Blaine’s hair. It hurts but he just takes his cash and walks away as the guy pulls the condom off, abandoning it on the alley floor so that Blaine can remember this shame the next time he’s out here.

He grabs a drink when he gets back inside, trying to wash away the taste of latex, the smell of sweat that feels like it’s embedded on his upper lip. He shies away from going near the raucous glee table for a while, knowing that he’s sweaty and wild-eyed and they’d probably be able to smell the self-loathing radiating off him.

When he finally goes back to their table to collect their empty glasses, Kurt grabs him around the waist. “When are you taking your break, Blaine?”

“Oh, uh.” Blaine shakes his head, taking a step back. “Yeah, I don’t think I’m going to get one tonight, we’ve been really busy. Sorry guys.”

“Like hell,” Kurt says, standing up. He turns to the bar, yelling across the room. “Joshua.”

Joshua looks up at him.

“I would just like to inform you that are legally obligated to give Blaine a break,” Kurt shouts.

“Kurt,” Blaine says, trying to get him to sit down. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine,” Kurt says.

“Blaine already took his break,” Joshua says. “I’m not legally obligated to give him another one.”

Kurt’s face falls. He turns to Blaine who doesn’t feel like he can breathe.

“You had your break already?” Kurt asks, his voice quiet and careful in a way that Blaine is scared of.

“Well, it wasn’t really a break,” Blaine says. “I had some work to do out back so… a break from the bar.”

Kurt studies him like he can read his soul. “Why are you lying?”

“I’m not,” Blaine insists.

“Yeah, you are,” Kurt says, no emotion in his words. “You’re lying to me.”

“Kurt…” Blaine appeals, his eyes flicking to their friends. Kurt’s friends.

“Why did you say that you’re not getting a break?” Kurt asks. “That’s a lie, Blaine.”

Blaine shrugs helplessly. His eyes flick to the bar, checking it’s safe, that no one’s going to proposition him right now. The coast is clear, but his eyes are welling up and he feels like he can’t breathe. “How about I get you guys another round?” he offers. “On me.” He tries to walk away but Kurt catches his arm and looks into his eyes.

“You’re still doing it.”

Blaine presses his lips together and swallows uncomfortably.

Kurt lets go of him, holding his own head in his hands. “Oh my god, you have got to be kidding me.”

“Kurt, no,” Blaine says, shaking his head, willing the tears not to fall. “I work here.”

“But you’re still working the same job, right?” Kurt snaps, looking up at him. “That’s why you took your break _out back_ instead of here with your friends. That’s why we haven’t had sex. Because you’re too busy fucking every man in New York except me.”

Blaine’s tear spill over. “Can we not do this here, Kurt?” he pleads.

“Oh, we’re not doing it anywhere,” Kurt says, so much vitriol in his voice. “You’re worth the world to me, Blaine, but I’m never going to pay you for it. Your name is off the guestlist and your phone number is blocked.”

Blaine opens his mouth to speak, but he feels like the words will choke him. It doesn’t matter anyway, Kurt has already walked away, his friends following wordlessly after him. All except for Sam who stops by his side, placing a hand on Blaine’s shoulder. Blaine twists away. He can’t stand being touched right now. He can’t even look Sam in the eye.

“I’m never going to block you,” Sam says. “In fact, I’m going to call you tomorrow.”

“Don’t bother,” Blaine says. He doesn’t want pity and empty promises.

“Dude, you’re my best friend,” Sam says. “I’m not giving up on you.”

That loosens something inside Blaine. He looks up at Sam, the smallest smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, even as tears fall down his cheeks. Sam pulls him into a hug, squeezing him tight, and in that split second, Blaine considers the possibility that everything could somehow be alright. But then Sam is pulling away, going to catch up with the rest of his friends, and Blaine is stood in the middle of a bar, crying, feeling dirtier than he did in that alley.

He goes through to the bathroom and splashes cold water on his face, trying to calm down. No, trying to _shut_ down, to feel nothing. He refuses to look at his reflection, wiping over his face with a paper towel. He throws it in the trash and returns to the bar where Joshua’s back is turned, serving a customer. Apparently he missed that whole mess. Kurt’s voice was deadly, but it was low rather than projecting throughout the whole space like Blaine is all too aware he’s capable of. Thank god for small mercies.

Blaine grabs a bottle of vodka from the shelf and pours it into a glass until it’s three quarters full, topping it off with coke to make it look like a soda. Joshua always says he can grab himself as much soda as he wants during his shifts. Blaine takes a big gulp and then goes to serve the customer waving for his attention.

He finishes off his almost neat vodka way too quickly and he starts to feel a little buzzed, but mostly he wants to lie on the floor and retch. He thinks that means he should probably make another drink. He doesn’t really remember the end of his shift, doesn’t remember getting home, doesn’t remember whether he cried himself to sleep or not.

He wakes to 3 missed calls from Sam. He can’t face it right now. Instead he forces himself from bed and grabs a beer from the fridge. His head is throbbing and his gut lurching. But this will help he tells himself as he sips it slowly on his kitchen floor like it’s medicine. It takes the edge off and he falls asleep on his couch for most of the rest of the day.

When he finally wakes up, he calls in sick to work and orders takeout, watching horrible reality TV and crying. This is what people do when they have a break-up, right? This level of self-indulgence is okay. But Blaine knows deep down that he doesn’t deserve this kindness. He hurt Kurt. He betrayed him. Again.

As the sun sets for the evening, he gets that itch beneath his skin. He doesn’t do this because he has to. He doesn’t do it because he needs the money. He does it because it’s who he is and what he deserves. He can’t change that. Kurt certainly couldn’t change that.

Blaine climbs into the shower, cleaning himself up, taming back his hair with little design, and then putting on his best _come fuck me_ outfit. He looks in the mirror and sees something honest for the first time in a long time.

He doesn’t go back to the bar. He doesn’t even call to let Joshua know what’s going on, but he guesses that Kurt filled him in on the details. Joshua doesn’t follow up on him. Just like that, it’s as though Blaine’s little detour into a different life never happened.

He falls back into his old patterns seamlessly. His nights are spent on dimly lit streets and in the back of cars, fulfilling other people’s fantasies. His days are spent mostly sleeping, and then maybe drinking to take the edge off. After a while he doesn’t feel much of anything at all though. It’s the numbness he craved that night Kurt walked out on him, but it’s not nearly so appealing now.

A car pulls up alongside him and Blaine sways his hips deliberately as he approaches. “Hey there.”

“How much to come in your ass?” the driver asks.

Blaine makes an incredulous noise. “I don’t do that.”

The driver pulls two fifties from his wallet. “This gets me you, right?”

“That gets you sex with a condom,” Blaine says. “You can come on my back or my face or whatever for a little extra.”

The driver pulls out another fifty, placing it alongside the first two. “And now?”

Blaine shrugs. “Yeah, you can shoot off on me for that.”

The driver smirks. “Not where I want to shoot it, pretty boy.” He pulls out another fifty. “Now?”

Blaine stares at the money. He didn’t pay the final notice on his electric bill and came home in the early hours of this morning to find that none of his light switches worked anymore. But he has cash. He can’t use that as an excuse. He needs to get off his ass during the day and pay his bills and stop this downward spiral. But somehow $200 and letting this guy fuck him without a condom seems more fitting. If he’s going to self-destruct, why not go all the way?

“Fine.”

He climbs into the car and off they drive to a secluded spot. They move to the backseat and Blaine is bent over and fucked hard but not very well. The guy comes inside him as promised, and then he slides his finger inside Blaine, feeling himself there, dragging his finger in a way that makes Blaine squirm. The guy openly laughs at him before pulling his finger out and leaning down to lick his hole.

“You are a dirty, dirty boy,” he says, licking again.

Blaine hangs his head, his body shaking, and wills himself not to cry.

The guy drops him off right back where he picked him up from and Blaine can feel the wetness of someone else’s come as he climbs from the car. As soon as he closes the door, the guy drives off without a word. Blaine has served his usefulness for the night. Pleasantries aren’t necessary or required.

Blaine stands there for a long time, like a statue, trying not to feel every filthy sensation in his body, every disgusting thought that runs through his head. He feels like he can’t breathe. He feels like his heart will just stop pumping and he’ll drop dead right here.

He finally moves away from the curb, leaning against the lamppost and slowly sliding down it until his ass hits the floor. He digs in his pocket for his phone, ignoring the wad of cash that sits beside it, and calls the only number he thinks might possibly care.

“Hey,” Sam responds kindly, even though it’s the middle of the night and Blaine has been ignoring him for weeks.

Blaine lets out a sob and it finally breaks, crying messy and unrestrained.

“Blaine?” Sam asks, the worry clear in his voice. “What’s going on?”

Blaine gasps in a breath. “I fucked up, Sam.”

“Tell me what’s happening,” Sam says.

“I just had unprotected sex with a stranger,” Blaine says. “I never do that. I’ve never done that. I don’t want to be this person anymore. I don’t like me, Sam.”

“Okay, where are you right now?” Sam asks.

“I’m sat on the street,” Blaine says.

“Just sat on a New York street sobbing,” Sam says. “That doesn’t sound like the best place to be.”

“I need a friend,” Blaine says brokenly. “I’m sorry I never called you back.”

“That doesn’t matter right now,” Sam tells him. “You need to get somewhere safe. You need to get home. I want you to stand up and get a cab.”

“There’s no cabs around here,” Blaine says, shaking his head. “I’ll jump back on the subway.”

“No, not in your state, there are so many ways that could go horribly wrong,” Sam says. “You need to just get taken to your front door right now. Where can you get a cab?”

Blaine looks around, his tears subsiding a little as his attention goes to something else. “There’s some bars a couple of blocks away. I can walk there.”

“Okay,” Sam says. “You’re going to wipe your face and you’re going to stand up and you’re going to walk to those bars and get a taxi. And I am going to stay on the phone with you the whole way. Do you have cash?”

Blaine sniffles. “Yeah,” he says. Dirty, filthy cash.

“Great,” Sam says. “So stand up and let’s go.”

Blaine feels a little stronger with Sam by his side, even though in reality he’s hundreds of miles away, but his voice is in Blaine’s ear, saying reassuring words, and Blaine feels like maybe the world isn’t going to end.

When he falls into the back of a cab, a wall comes down and he’s not crying now but he feels vulnerable, like he’s been flayed alive. He’s so aware of himself and where he is and what he’s done. He can’t escape what he’s become. This must be what rock bottom feels like. He’d thought he was here before, but no, this is it.

“Sam.”

“I’m here,” Sam says.

“I want to go home,” Blaine says in a small voice.

“Yeah, that’s where you’re going,” Sam tells him soothingly.

“No,” Blaine says. “I can’t be here anymore. I’ve lost myself. I just want to go back home.”

“I have a spare bedroom,” Sam says. “I was thinking of advertising for a roommate, but you just saved me the trouble.”

Blaine breathes out a laugh. It still sounds wet. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

“Because you’re my best friend,” Sam says.

“I’ve not been a very good friend,” Blaine says.

“That’s the thing about best friends,” Sam says. “You don’t have to talk every day. You and I are platonic soulmate bros. I got your back. And I know you’d have mine if I called you in the middle of the night. You can be as down on yourself as you want, but I know that’s true.”

Blaine smiles. He wants that to be true, so he chooses to believe Sam. It hurts less.

“I’m going to buy you a plane ticket to Lima for tomorrow morning,” Sam says.

“I can buy my own ticket,” Blaine insists.

“Yeah, but you don’t need to worry about trying to make those arrangements right now,” Sam says. “You need to focus on getting through tonight, and then tomorrow you can just turn up at the airport and get on a plane and I am going to be there in Lima to pick you up and take you to breakfast. We’re having pancakes.”

Blaine laughs. “Pancakes. Okay.”

“And then we’re going to go to the clinic and you’re going to get yourself tested,” Sam says. Blaine’s stomach drops. “Hopefully it’s okay, it’s probably okay, but it’s going to eat you up inside until you know for sure. And I’ll come get tested with you. I haven’t had it done in a while.”

Blaine feels himself tearing up again. “Thank you.”

“Then maybe we could get ice-cream,” Sam muses.

Blaine grins, shaking his head, as they pull up outside his building. “I’m here.”

“Good,” Sam says.

He stays on the line as Blaine pays the cab driver and goes into the building, taking the elevator up to his floor. He unlocks his door and automatically goes to switch the light on but of course nothing happens.

“Shit,” he mutters.

“What?” Sam asks.

“No, nothing, I just forgot to pay my electric bill, they cut it off, I can’t see anything,” Blaine rambles. He sighs, turning on the flashlight on his phone. “Okay, I’m good.”

“Okay,” Sam says. “So you’re going to take a shower and go… clean everything out or whatever.”

Blaine has never wished for an aneurism more.

“I am going to book you a plane ticket,” Sam continues. “And when you’re done you’re going to call be back and I am going to give you all your flight details and you are going to set an alarm and then you’re going to go to sleep.”

Blaine nods. “Deal.”

He feels like he doesn’t think for himself until he’s touching down in Lima. It’s a good feeling. He’s proven time and again over the last few years that he is not capable of being responsible for his own life. But Sam gave him clear step-by-step instructions of what was going to happen, guided him through it, and now Blaine is here. Home.


	2. Chapter 2

Blaine falls into Sam’s arms at the airport and it takes all of his strength not to break down sobbing again. He’s already put way more than is reasonable on Sam in the last twelve hours, he’s not going to make him deal with that as well. Instead he takes a deep breath and steps back, looking him in the eye.

“Thank you so much, Sam.”

“I got you,” Sam says easily. “Now come on.” He slaps Blaine on the chest. “We need to go get pancakes and STD tests.”

Blaine can’t help but laugh. He resisted coming back here so much when everything fell apart with Kurt, with NYADA. He didn’t want to be the failure who crawled home with their tail between their legs. But now that he’s finally here, he can feel a weight lifted off him. He doesn’t have to pretend anymore.

It’s after lunch when they finally make their way back to Sam’s apartment. Blaine is exhausted. And humiliated, despite how nice and professional the nurse at the sexual health clinic was. Now he just has to wait a couple of weeks until all the results are back in. It feels like torture already.

“Okay, so, I’m pretty tidy, but I’m also a bit of a hoarder,” Sam says as he leads Blaine into the apartment. “I never really had things for a long time. Or a home.”

“I get it,” Blaine says, looking around. Sure enough, every shelf and cubby is filled to capacity with little keepsakes. It doesn’t look messy though. It makes Blaine feel like he’s in a safe place. He barely had anything to pack up from his place in New York.

He walks up to the bookcase, spying a photograph of himself and Sam in the choir room, arms around each other, broad smiles on their faces.

“Crazy how young we look, right?” Sam says.

Blaine nods. “I’m a baby. How did I think getting married was a good idea?”

“You got swept up in the momentum of the marriage equality act,” Sam says. “You got offered something you thought you’d never be able to have. How were you supposed to do anything but grab on with both hands in case it got taken away again.”

Blaine looks at him. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard anything so astute and revealing, like finding a hidden room inside himself. How does Sam know him better than he knows himself?

“When the hell did you get so smart?”

Sam snorts. “I am a mentor to the youth of America.”

Blaine smiles. “They’re lucky to have you.”

He looks back at the shelf, all the little moments that mean everything to Sam but nothing to him. Until he sees the photo of Sam posing with his own _Treasure Trails_ ad on the side of a bus.

Blaine remembers that time in New York, when they were all there together and their dreams were within touching distance. Anything seemed possible. And look what Blaine did with all that potential. He can feel himself tearing up again, licking his lips and trying to distract himself. He looks up at the ceiling, trying to steady his breaths.

“Crying is allowed,” Sam says. “No bro code here.”

“If I start crying, I don’t think I’ll ever stop,” Blaine says.

“You would,” Sam says. “Or you’d get so horribly dehydrated that you’d pass out or something. I guess.”

Blaine looks at him, furrowing his eyebrows together.

“Let me show you your room,” Sam says.

It has neutral walls and a neutral carpet and a neutral bedspread on a neutral bed. A blank slate. A fresh page. Another chance that he absolutely cannot afford to waste. He’s pretty sure it’s the last one he’ll ever get.

“You can do whatever you want with it,” Sam says. “It’s yours.”

“Thanks,” Blaine says in a small voice. He tries to believe that he deserves it.

They have a quiet night in, takeout on the couch in front of a football game. Sam comes out of the kitchen holding two beers, offering one out to Blaine.

“No, thanks,” Blaine says. “I think I’m going to try and spend some time without alcohol or sex with strangers.”

“Oh, yeah, good call,” Sam says. He puts Blaine’s beer down on the coffee table and opens his own up, taking a long swallow.

“Okay, I have to ask something, even though I’m sure I don’t want to know the answer,” Blaine says, turning towards Sam on the couch. “But I guess we should just drain the poison now and then maybe I can figure out what’s supposed to come next.”

“Shoot,” Sam says.

Blaine takes a deep breath. “What happened that night?” he asks. “In New York, the night when… the night in the bar before Kurt’s fashion show.”

“Oh, yeah, that,” Sam says. “Well, Kurt wouldn’t talk to anyone, he just stalked out of there. Rachel was so high pitched I’m pretty sure dogs could hear her. Mercedes was adamant that everyone was misunderstanding whatever had gone down because there’s no way that was true. Tina looked like someone had just broken her heart. Oh, and the next day, Santana was pissed that she wasn’t there. She said witnessing that kind of drama was her birthright.”

Blaine looks down, trying to process it all. Trying to accept it. Everyone knew what he was, what he’s done, not just that he was a prostitute but that he lied to and cheated on Kurt, the man every one of them was there to support. Blaine was the bad guy. Maybe he’d always been the bad guy. Even in his darkest moments he never really believed that though. He has a good heart. He just wished he could figure out how to use it right.

“Don’t worry, they’re still your friends,” Sam says. “No one ever really leaves the glee club. And the worst part has to be over now, right?”

“God, I hope so,” Blaine says.

He sleeps so well that night, better than he remembers sleeping for a long time. When he gets up in the morning, Sam has already left for work. Blaine walks through the empty apartment, feeling like he should tiptoe so that he doesn’t disturb the calm quiet of the place. It’s nice, and much bigger than anything he could afford in New York. He likes it here already.

He grabs a bowl of cereal, Sam had insisted that he could help himself to whatever he wanted, and sits at the dining table just for the novelty of being able to do that. It makes him feel civilised. He wants to be a boring, predictable, well-adjusted adult. As far as dreams go, it’s a pretty pathetic one, but a little bit of normalcy would be a blessing after the last few years. He just wants to be a person he doesn’t hate.

After breakfast, he heads to the grocery store, planning on stocking up Sam’s fridge. It’s really the least he could do. He ends up down the baking aisle without really meaning to, nostalgia coming over him. This was something he liked once, something he was good at. Kurt was better. He probably could have been a professional chef. He had so many strings to his bow. He really was phenomenal.

Blaine pushes the thought from his head. This was about him now, what he could do. And he could make some pretty great cookies. He starts to gather up the ingredients, allowing a little bit of excitement to creep in.

By the time Sam gets home from work, every surface and container is filled with cookies and dinner is almost ready.

“I didn’t realise I was gaining a wife,” Sam says as he walks into the kitchen.

“Don’t get used to this,” Blaine tells him. “But I wanted to do something to say thanks.”

“You already said that like a million times,” Sam says, grabbing a cookie off the nearest tray. He makes a blissful noise as he bites into it. “This is incredible. But how many cookies do you think one man can eat?”

Blaine looks around. “Yeah, I guess I got a little carried away.”

He plates up the food and they sit together at the table to eat. Blaine had cut so many people off that he hadn’t realised how lonely he was. When Kurt came back into his life, he saw what it was like to have companionship again, but he never let himself believe that that was real, that it would last. He was always waiting for the other shoe to drop. And it did. He drank and sold his body so much afterwards just so that he didn’t have to look that loneliness in the eye again. He didn’t think he’d survive it.

But now he has a friend. A roommate. If he died, someone would notice, someone would care. It’s a morbid thought but he finds it comforting. He might have to fight this battle alone, but he has someone alongside him while he does it.

“How was work?” he asks.

“Good,” Sam responds. “The team’s really starting to pull together. The beginning of a new year is always a weird time. You lose the seniors and all the underclassmen are trying to find where they fit into the new dynamic, and then you get the people who move up from the JV squad and the newbies from the audition process. It’s a lot to balance. But it feels like they’re bonding now. They wouldn’t be willing to die for each other yet, but they’ll get there.”

“Isn’t that a lot to ask of a show choir?” Blaine asks, arching an eyebrow at him.

“It’s a bare minimum in my show choir,” Sam says. “Just like we would have done anything for each other. You never know when you’ll need a friend like that in your life.”

Blaine nods, smiling fondly. “That is so true.”

“You should come with me tomorrow,” Sam says. “Sing for them. Be an inspiration.”

“I’m not very inspirational,” Blaine dismisses.

“You’re from the golden age of the New Directions,” Sam says. “They’re going to love meeting you. You have to come.”

Blaine looks down at his food. He can’t remember the last time he sung a song outside the privacy of his shower. He still loves it though. He still feels it in his body. And this is what he wanted, wasn’t it? A chance to rediscover and explore himself. A chance to get back some of those things that he lost.

“Okay,” he agrees.

Sam grins at him. “This is going to be epic.”

Blaine spends the evening poring over song options but, he thinks he’s known all along what his current anthem is, even if he hasn’t sung it out loud yet. He meets Sam at McKinley, his heart beating too fast as he steps into the halls, still half-expecting Sue Sylvester to jump out from around the corner and yell at him about something whilst giving him a new, bizarre nickname. But the atmosphere is different here now, charged in a good way.

“Hey,” Sam says, throwing an arm around his shoulder and leading him like a whirlwind down the corridor. Blaine couldn’t resist the momentum if he tried. “This is going to be so much fun.”

Blaine expects them to go to the choir room, but instead he finds himself ushered into the auditorium. The kids are all gathered near the front, chatting and laughing and practicing dance steps. Blaine wants to burst into tears. His life used to be so good.

“New Directions,” Sam yells as he leads Blaine down the stairs. The kids all stop and turn to attention. They clearly respect him. “I booked the auditorium for us today because we have a very special guest and this man deserves a stage.”

Blaine can feel himself blushing. “I don’t know about that.”

“This is Blaine Anderson, New Directions alumni, National Show Choir Champion and my best friend,” Sam says. “And he’s going to sing a song for us.”

The kids cheer, genuine enthusiasm that Blaine can’t help but be sceptical of.

“Take it away,” Sam prompts, giving him a slap on the back.

“Yeah,” Blaine says, climbing the stairs up onto the stage. He tells the band what song he’s going to perform and then steps up to the microphone. “Hi,” he says, the stage lights bright in his eyes. This all feels like way too much. He looks down at the faces gazing up at him. They’re so young. He feels ancient. “A lot of my best memories happened in this room,” he says. “Don’t rush through it. Don’t focus too hard on what comes next. This matters. You’ll get your chance out there. Some of my friends from glee club are insanely successful right now and I’m sure some of you want that. But grow from your roots. I got a little lost along the way. But standing in this room reminds me of all the possibilities I had.” He shifts on his feet, taking hold of the microphone in the stand. “Anyway, Sam didn’t invite me here to give you an inspirational speech,” he says. “Or, uh, Mr Evans.”

“I give detention to anyone who calls me that,” Sam says.

Blaine smiles. “Fair enough.”

“Are you going to sing a song now?” Sam asks.

“Yes, I’m going to sing a song now,” Blaine says. He nods to the band, closing his eyes as the first notes start to play.

_Like a small boat_   
_On the ocean_   
_Sending big waves_   
_Into motion_   
_Like how a single word can make a heart open_   
_I might only have one match_   
_But I can make an explosion_

He opens his eyes, standing up taller.

_And all those things I didn’t say_   
_Wrecking balls inside my brain_   
_I will scream them loud tonight_   
_Can you hear my voice this time?_

He grabs the microphone from the stand and walks to the front of the stage, projecting the words and the emotion.

_This is my fight song_   
_Take back my life song_   
_Prove I’m alright song_

He stamps his foot to the drumbeat and feels that surge of energy performing has always given him. It’s like a drug and he feels it coursing through his veins.

_My power’s turned on_   
_Starting right now I’ll be strong_   
_I’ll play my fight song_   
_And I don’t really care if nobody else believes_   
_’Cause I’ve still got a lot of fight left in me_

He grins, starting to move around the stage like he owns it, throwing in a little flourish here and there as he belts the words out. He’d forgotten how powerful he felt when he did this, and the words hit him deep right where he needs them to. It’s going to be a fight, finding himself again, rebuilding everything that he’s smashed to the ground, but he’s strong enough to face it. He has to be. He has literally no other options left.

_But there’s a fire burning in my bones_   
_Still believe_   
_Yeah, I still believe_

As the song slows down, he turns his back to the audience, facing the band as he moves slowly upstage. He can feel it all inside himself, the loss, mourning for every dream he let die. It chokes him up, his voice wavering slightly, but he pulls it back with determination. This isn’t the part where he breaks. This is the part where he proves himself.

The chorus rallies one last time and he turns, running to the front of the stage and throwing his arm out as he throws the words into the audience. He can feel that passion again and he goes with it, lets it lead him as he thumps his chest and bounds around and puts everything he has into it. He’s laid bare and it’s so cathartic, getting in touch with a part of himself that he hasn’t known in so long, something honest and real.

He goes back to the microphone stand for the last line, putting all of his heart into it as he slots the microphone back into place.

_Know I’ve still got a lot of fight left in me_

He lets his arms fall down to his sides, his chest rising and falling as he tries to catch his breath, heart hammering loud in his ears. Then the kids get to their feet, clapping and cheering, and Blaine grins, overwhelmed. A standing ovation. And then he realises he’s crying.

Sam comes up to join him on stage as Blaine tries to wipe away his tears as subtly as he can.

“That was amazing,” Sam says, pulling him into a hug and slapping him on the back. “I’m so proud of you,” he says, quieter, just between them. It takes every bit of self-control Blaine has not to start sobbing. “Alright,” Sam says as he pulls away from Blaine. “Rosie, Eliza, you guys have something prepared for this week’s lesson, right?”

“We sure do,” a girl says confidently, getting to her feet.

Sam ushers Blaine back off stage with him. “Oh, and…” He grabs his bag from under his seat and pulls out a large Tupperware box. “Blaine made cookies for everyone!”

There’s more cheers and Blaine decides not to let them know they weren’t exactly made with them in mind. He’s more than happy to share with them. The cookies get passed around as they all take their seats, ready to watch the performance the girls have prepared.

Blaine sits watching the lesson, in awe of how bright and starry-eyed these kids are, but there’s no delusion in this room. They work hard and they make their voices heard and they push each other to greatness. Blaine always felt so safe in this environment. Maybe if he’d stuck with NYADA he could have carried that momentum through until he made his own little space in the world. But he didn’t and he can’t keep letting his self-pity fuel his downward spiral.

Yes, Kurt broke off the engagement while Blaine was busy planning their wedding, but did Blaine really fight for him? No, he papered over the cracks and pushed forward until it all fell apart, and then he made Kurt be the one to call it. And yes he was depressed, yes he got cut from NYADA, but he didn’t fight for that either. He let everything slip away because he was too scared to hold onto it and then lose it anyway. He has to take responsibility. He has to fight.

“They loved you,” Sam says as the kids file out at the end of the lesson.

“Yeah, a grown man crying on stage,” Blaine says. “Every teenagers’ favourite type of person. I’m a disaster.”

Sam squares up to him, putting his hands firmly on Blaine’s shoulders. “Listen up, I’m only going to say this once,” he says. “Stop insulting my best friend. I’m not going to stand for that shit.”

Blaine laughs, feeling the tension go out of him. “Okay.”

“Good,” Sam says, patting him on the shoulder before turning to grab his bag. “So, are you going to be my assistant?”

“Oh, uh, no,” Blaine says. “I mean I’m honoured. But so not right for the job. I’m still trying to figure things out, but I don’t think this is it.”

“Alright,” Sam says. “You can stay home and bake cookies then. Come on, wifey.”

Blaine swats him on the arm before they race up the stairs.

If Blaine is going to make peace with his past, he knows there’s something he can’t avoid. He’s barely spoken to his parents in years but if they find out he’s back in Lima and didn’t even tell them, that relationship is going to be one more thing he’s broken beyond repair. He still loves them, family matters, even if he shut himself away in that dark place where he convinced himself he didn’t need any of them.

His mother is thrilled to hear from him and even more thrilled that he’s going to be sticking around for the foreseeable future. She invites him to dinner and he gladly accepts. He going to build bridges. He’s going to reconnect with his past. Maybe then he can figure out his future.

As soon as the door opens, his mom pulls him into a hug, squeezing him tight. He clings back like he’s a little boy, guilt hitting hard. She’s missed him. He’s made her miss him. He hurt so many more people than himself. He never existed in a bubble, even if he turned his back on them all.

They pull apart and she looks at him with such love and affection, hands clasped on his shoulders. “It is so good to have my sweet boy back.”

Blaine tries not to roll his eyes. She’s being nice, and her support gave him a hell of a head start in life, even if he squandered it. He smiles, willing it to reach his eyes. “I think I needed to come home.”

“You’re so skinny,” she says. “I need to feed you up.”

Blaine shrugs. “I haven’t been working out. I’m going to go to the gym, get back into boxing.”

“Well look what the cat dragged in.” His dad’s drawl enters the room before he does. Blaine stiffens.

“Hi, dad.”

“You look sick,” his dad says, eyeing him. “You don’t have one of those…” he waves his hand, “…gay things, do you?”

Blaine gapes at him. “Excuse me?”

“I think you should go wash up for dinner, dear,” his mom says pointedly.

“Don’t look at me like that,” his dad says wearily to Blaine. “You don’t have to get offended by every word I say.”

“Right, sorry, I guess thinking that you calling AIDS a _gay thing_ is more than casually homophobic is just me being sensitive,” Blaine says.

“I just asked a question,” his dad says, holding his hands up. “I’m showing concern for your wellbeing.”

Blaine’s eyes drop to the floor. He wants to say his standpoint comes from a place of pride, but really it’s just shame. He hasn’t had his test results back yet. Maybe he does have _that gay thing_ or any number of others. He wasn’t being responsible with himself, even when he was using protection. His dad is right about all the worst parts of him.

His mom links her arm through his. “Come on, let’s get you a drink.”

She pulls him through to the kitchen where he sits himself down on a stool at the counter, slumping over in defeat.

“Don’t take anything he says to heart,” his mom says, pouring out a glass of wine and placing it in front of him. “He’s clueless and old-fashioned and I know that can hurt, but he doesn’t have hate in his heart. He wants the best for you.”

Blaine plays with the stem of his wine glass, spinning it on the counter. “I wish I was what he wanted.” He looks up at him mom. “I’m going to try better.”

“You don’t need to try better,” his mom says, leaning across to kiss him on the cheek. “We love you just the way you are. Both of us.”

Blaine shakes his head. “I don’t love me the way I am.”

“You want me to start listing all the wonderful things about you?” his mom teases. “We could get out the old home movies.”

“Oh god no,” Blaine says.

He laughs though, finally lifting his wine glass to his mouth. He’s 22 but it still feels weird to be drinking alcohol in front of his mom. He’s adult now though, according to society and the law at least. He supposes he should probably act like it.

Dinner goes a lot better than the initial reunion in the foyer. His dad, ever skilled at brushing things under the carpet, doesn’t even skirt the edges of Blaine’s sexuality or his romantic life. Blaine is grateful. He just wants to pretend that he’s a normal son and not a powder keg waiting to blow. Maybe if he gets good enough at it, things might start to slot into place.

After dinner he goes up to his old room, untouched since he left it to start his new life in New York. He says he wants to check out if there’s any of his things he wants now that he’s back in Lima, but he’s not expecting to find anything. He just wants to be in here. He just wants to remember. Maybe there’s a part of him that he left here, some bit of courage or goodness that he could have used to stop his life falling apart.

He closes the door softly behind himself and steps into the room, staring at the bed. This is where he sat with Kurt and talked about music and fashion and homework and dreams. This is where they kissed, sweet and innocent and chaste. This is where he lost his virginity in the most perfect, romantic way. Nobody can take that away from him.

He climbs onto the bed, lying down like he did that night, but there’s no one’s legs to tangle with his own, no one’s hand to hold, no one’s nose to press against as he gazes into their eyes. He had everything. He had love and a future and passion in his life. He can still remember the way Kurt kissed him, the way he touched him, the way they explored each other. It was incredible, coming with Kurt above him, he hadn’t known it could feel like that. He was crying that night for the exact opposite reason that he’s crying now.

He misses Kurt. Kurt is home. He left the one thing that really matters back in New York. This room doesn’t mean anything without him in it.

By the time he gets back to the apartment that evening he feels utterly drained. He drops down onto the couch beside Sam with a sigh. Sam looks at him sideways with a raised eyebrow.

“Are your parents that exhausting?”

“My _life_ is that exhausting,” Blaine responds. He shakes his head. “Sorry. No more pity parties. I’m getting my shit together.”

Sam looks at him. “The glee kids requested brownies,” he says. “If you’re at a loose end tomorrow.”

“I am not your wife,” Blaine says. “Or their personal chef.”

“Well, figure out what you _are_ and I’ll stop,” Sam says.

“I’m working on it,” Blaine insists.

“I know, buddy,” Sam says, patting him on the shoulder. “Seriously though, do you have a good brownie recipe?”

Blaine rolls his eyes. “Obviously I have an amazing brownie recipe.”

“I knew it!” Sam grins.

The next day, Blaine knows he has one more thing to confront if he’s ever going to set up a life here, even just in the short term. He knocks on the familiar door, feeling bile rising in his throat. As it swings open, Burt’s face goes from one of expectation to utter bemusement.

“Blaine?”

“Hi,” Blaine says. “I’m here. In Lima, I mean. I moved in with Sam, I’m going to be around for a while. So, yeah, we’re bound to run into each other at some point and I didn’t want to blindside you. Like I guess I am now. And also, if you wanted to punch me in the face, I figured it would be in both of our best interests if it happened here rather than at the grocery store or in line at the bank.”

Burt stares at him. “Why would I want to punch you in the face?”

“Because I assume you talk to your son,” Blaine says, his eyes falling down.

“I do,” Burt agrees. He’s silent for a long time, his face unreadable when Blaine finally dares look. He shifts on his feet, his posture softening. “How are you, Blaine?”

There’s genuine concern in his voice and Blaine doesn’t know what to do with it. He certainly doesn’t deserve it. But Burt has always judged people by their intentions, and he seems to be able to separate Blaine from the terrible things that he’s done.

“I’m not great,” he finally says, because there doesn’t seem like any reason not to be honest, not when Burt is showing him kindness and understanding. “And I am so sorry that Kurt got dragged into it. I never wanted to hurt him.”

“I know that,” Burt says. “And he knows that.”

Blaine swallows, biting back at the tiny spark of hope that threatens to swell. Kurt isn’t his prize at the end of this. Kurt deserves to never have to see Blaine again. That’s the best way Blaine could ever make this up to him.

“Do you have a job?” Burt asks.

“No,” Blaine says. “I just got back to town. I’m going to sort myself out though.”

“I could use an extra pair of hands down at the tire shop,” Burt says.

Blaine stares at him. “What?”

“You know your way around cars, right?” Burt says.

“Well, yeah,” Blaine agrees. “But… Why would you do that?”

Burt sighs, leaning against the doorframe. “I’ve already lost one kid and that was one too many,” he says. “Whatever is going on between you and Kurt is going on between you and Kurt. But I’m not going to stand here watching you hurt. I’m not losing another kid, Blaine.”

Blaine feels the tears pricking at his eyes. It’s all the acceptance he’s ever wanted from his own dad. “Thank you,” he says, his voice cracking.

Burt pulls him into a hug, patting him on the back, and Blaine isn’t going to break down. He’s going to prove that he’s worth this.

He heads back to the apartment, feeling a little lighter. He puts on some music and sings along, dancing around the kitchen while he bakes. He’s all done in time for the glee club rehearsal after school.

“I believe there was a request put in for brownies,” he says grandly as he enters the choir room.

“Legend!” Sam cries out, coming over to meet him.

Blaine puts the container down on the piano and Sam dives in before anyone else can get a chance. He takes a huge bite, making a sound that can only be described as orgasmic.

“Best wifey ever,” he says, putting his arm around Blaine.

One of the girls looks at them curiously as she grabs a brownie. “Sam, is Blaine your best friend or your, y’know, _best friend_?” she asks, raising her eyebrows.

Sam snorts a laugh. “He wishes.”

Blaine feels himself blush, even though it’s so far from being true anymore. “No, I don’t.”

Sam gives him an incredulous look. “You totally still want to do me,” he says smugly before his confidence wavers. “Right?”

Blaine gestures pointedly towards the kids. “Wildly inappropriate, Sam.”

Sam sighs and takes another bite. “Well, I’m too busy eating now, you’re going to have to sing.”

Blaine shakes his head. “Oh, no, I did not come here to sing.”

Sam wordlessly gestures to himself chewing exaggeratedly.

Blaine rolls his eyes, stepping forward. “When I used to be in this room, things could get pretty vicious over the spotlight. There’s no way at least one of you doesn’t have something you’re dying to show off. Now’s your chance.”

“Yeah, okay, I got a little something I’ve been working on,” a guy at the back says, getting to his feet.

Blaine moves out of his way, taking a seat. He can see why Sam loves this job so much, the satisfaction must be huge. Blaine doesn’t feel like it would be the right fit for him though. Being responsible for somebody else sounds far too overwhelming, he can barely take care of himself. He likes the idea of working at the tire shop, doing something methodical, keeping his head down. That feels like just what he needs right now, even if he can’t see himself doing it until retirement. He needs to sort his head out before he can start to think even a few days in advance though.

When the class is over, Blaine helps Sam stack the chairs up. He turns to see Sam grabbing the last brownie.

“Enjoy that,” Blaine says. “Those are the last baked goods you’ll be getting for a while. I got a job today so I can’t be your housewife anymore.”

“You got a job?” Sam asks. “That’s awesome. What are you going to be doing?”

“I’m working at Hummel Tires and Lube,” Blaine says.

Sam raises his eyebrows. “Interesting choice.”

“Not my choice,” Blaine says. “I went to talk to Burt and he offered. I think it will be good for me though.”

“Well, great,” Sam says. “I’m happy for you.”

Blaine’s life falls into a rhythm. He works and he hangs out with Sam in the evenings and sometimes he sits in on glee rehearsals. He pays his rent and saves money for a rainy day, or whatever comes next, if he can figure out what that is. He joins the gym and he starts boxing again and eating right and his body starts to feel like his own again, gaining definition where it was once wasting away. He goes to his parents’ house for dinner every couple of weeks and he hasn’t gotten into an argument with his dad again, so he calls that a win. They’re both trying, and his mom is an excellent buffer. His test results come back negative, as do Sam’s, and he’ll redo them in a couple of months just to be sure, but he feels like maybe he can truly start to leave the past behind.

It’s still a conscious effort every day to put good habits where there used to be bad, and sometimes it’s exhausting and he sits crying in front of trashy reality TV until Sam leaves the room, or he’ll eat a whole bowl of cookie dough and then hate himself for at least 24 hours. He’s lost count of the amount of times he’s fallen asleep on the couch because he couldn’t bear going to his room alone and Sam has had to wake him up to make him go to bed. But compared to the things he was doing to himself before, he’s trying to cut himself some slack.

As Christmas approaches, he and Sam decorate the apartment and Blaine tries to get into the Holiday spirit. He’s not really feeling it this year, but he doesn’t want to be a total downer. He and Sam are going to have a quiet one though and he’s grateful for that, even if his mom has been guilt tripping him about it.

He picks up extra shifts at the garage, more than happy to cover for people spending time with their loved ones, and the less time he has to think, the better. Working on the cars is methodical, a puzzle that takes up just the right amount of his attention and calms something inside of him. Whether he’s fulfilled or not, he’s useful.

“Blaine?”

He lifts his head up from inspecting the engine, even though he’d know that voice anywhere. His stomach flips over when he sees Kurt standing there, looking painfully out of place in his stylish outfit.

“I didn’t think you were coming home for Christmas.”

“I wasn’t,” Kurt says, staring at him like he has two heads. “I managed to move some things around, I wanted to surprise my dad. I went to the house, but Carole said he’s here.”

“Yeah, he’s in the office,” Blaine says.

Kurt nods, mouth slightly agape. “I didn’t know you worked here.”

“That’s because I asked your dad not to tell you,” Blaine says. “Not in a sneaky, lying way,” he adds quickly. “Just… I don’t know.”

Kurt stares at him for another moment, his face unreadable. “I’m going to go see my dad.”

“Yeah,” Blaine agrees quietly, but he waits until Kurt walks away before he turns back to the car.

His heart is hammering in his chest and his mouth has gone dry. He blinks, trying to focus on what he’s doing, follow his mental checklist. Kurt is a much more intriguing puzzle though, even if he’s one that Blaine forfeited the right to ever solve.

He takes a breath, wiping his sweaty hands down on his coveralls. He’s here to work. He’s here because everything else fell apart and Burt was kind enough to give him another shot at not being a total disaster. So he’s going to fix this car and make the customer happy and get a good review for Burt. Word of mouth is invaluable in a business like this.

He’s bent over, inspecting the sparkplugs, when he hears Kurt’s distinctive footsteps coming back from the office. He doesn’t move.

“Hey,” Kurt says, stopping beside him.

Blaine slowly raises his head, wiping his hands on a rag. “Did you find your dad?”

“Oh, yeah,” Kurt says distractedly, as though that wasn’t what he expected to talk about. “There was some hugging and crying.”

Blaine smiles. “He’s a good man.”

Kurt nods, but he doesn’t look like he’s listening. “Blaine, I’m sorry I blocked your number.”

Blaine shrugs. “It didn’t make a difference, I never tried to call you anyway.”

“That’s not the point,” Kurt says. “That was a crappy thing to do. You were going through something.”

“I was being an awful human being,” Blaine says. “You did the right thing, it only got worse from there.”

Kurt’s face creases in concern and Blaine curses himself.

“I’m fine,” he insists. “Upwards trajectory.”

“That’s what my dad said,” Kurt agrees. “I’m proud of you. That can’t have been easy.”

Blaine ducks his head down, shame and condescension and acceptance all swirling around inside him.

“I’m going to unblock your number,” Kurt says, taking his phone out of his pocket.

“You don’t have to do that,” Blaine says. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“I want to,” Kurt insists, looking intently at his phone as he taps on options. “There.” He slides his phone into his pocket as he looks back up at Blaine. And then down. And then back up. “That’s a good look on you, by the way.”

“Oh,” Blaine says, looking down at his grease-covered overalls. “Thanks.”

“I don’t really know why I said that,” Kurt says, his cheeks tinging the subtlest shade of pink against his pale skin.

“I’m glad you did,” Blaine says.

Kurt snorts a laugh, snapping himself out of it. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

Their paths don’t cross again while Kurt is in Lima, but it doesn’t dampen the meeting for Blaine. Besides, he has Christmas cookies to bake for the glee club and a Holiday concert to support and volunteering with Sam to keep him busy. It’s a good festive season, the calmest he’s had in a long time, and even though it’s just he and Sam on the day, it feels like a family Christmas.

Tina comes to visit for New Year’s, hugging Blaine tight as soon as he opens the door. “You’re not a hooker anymore, right?” she asks bluntly.

“No, Tina,” he responds, giving her an incredulous look.

“Good, you’re too good for that,” she says, pulling him into another hug. “You deserve happiness, Blaine Anderson.”

Blaine smiles. “Thanks. But you’re really lucky I adore you, Tina Cohen-Chang.”

They play Cards Against Humanity, and then Twister, and then they just squash onto the couch together, a tangle of drunken limbs and so much love, talking until the sun comes up. Blaine couldn’t imagine anything more perfect.

The next morning, he gets a text from Kurt. _Happy New Year._ Three words have never made him so happy. He taps back a message in response.

_Happy New Year. I bet your New York one was a little more exciting than my Lima one though ;)_

He sits cradling his phone in his hand while he nurses his cup of coffee at the kitchen table. Sam and Tina are still dead to the world. Instead of the text notification he’s hoping for, his phone starts to ring. He puts his mug down, swiping to answer it.

“Hi.”

“I was at Rachel and Jesse’s, so not that exciting,” Kurt says, carrying on from their text conversation without missing a beat.

“I bet that was fancy,” Blaine says, feeling thrown by the lack of greetings, but he can’t help smiling, resting his chin on his hand.

“Finger foods and showtunes around the piano,” Kurt says. “All. Night Long. How is it that Rachel still gets all the solos?”

Blaine laughs. “She is the Broadway star. Us mere mortals don’t stand a chance.”

“I know that I’m an overachieving trailblazer who is making headlines in the fashion world for all of my achievements, but I can still sing just as well as she can,” Kurt says.

“And you’re so modest,” Blaine says.

“Modest doesn’t get you shit in this world,” Kurt says. “Anyway, how are you, how’s your head?”

“Not bad actually,” Blaine says. “Maybe I’m still drunk.”

“Hmmm,” Kurt hums. “I was surprised you were awake actually, knowing what a night owl you are.”

“I’m glad I was,” Blaine says. He lifts his coffee cup up to his mouth, taking a sip. “Thanks for calling. It’s good to hear from you.”

“Thanks for texting back,” Kurt says.

A silence hangs between them, the conversation threatening to tip into something way too heavy. There’s a lot of things they could say, but it’s not the time. Blaine is just happy they can have something like friendship. It feels like so much more than he deserves.

“Tina came over to celebrate with me and Sam,” Blaine says, trying to steer them to safer ground.

“Oh, fun,” Kurt says sarcastically. “Did she bring her own ointments to rub into your chest when she mounted you or did you provide them?”

Blaine lets out a laugh. “That poor girl is never going to live that down, is she?”

“Not as long as I’m alive,” Kurt says, sounding far too cheery about it.

He and Kurt text most days and chat about once a week. It’s like when they were getting close again in New York, but this time there’s distance. No looking into each other’s eyes and getting lost. No checking out bodies and awakening lusts. No touches that seem innocent but burn and demand to be replicated and multiplied, until there’s not even air between them. Well, it mostly helps with that. At least Blaine can’t fuck it up by trying to actually do something about it. Kurt is his friend. He can’t believe how lucky he is to have that much.

He goes into the New Year with determination. There’s a part of him that’s not just doing it for himself anymore. He wants to prove himself to Kurt. He wants to be worth his time. He wants to deserve him.

His life feels like it levels out. He knows what to expect from his days. It’s comforting. But being in a routine takes up less mental energy. He wouldn’t call it as boredom, he likes how his time is filled and doesn’t really want for anything. Except there’s this itch. Maybe it was there all along. It’s squirmy in his gut and there’s no way he can reach it on his own, not without cutting himself open. After the image comes to him once it’s an intrusive thought that he can’t shake. He just wishes he knew what it meant. He’s restless for something.

He ends up at Scandals one evening, thinking maybe a dance will get it out of his system. He likes to dance, to feel the music literally moving him, vibrating down to his bones. He loses himself to it, dancing alone until he’s not. The guy brushing against him is cute though, so Blaine goes with it. It’s taken as an invitation that Blaine doesn’t shut down. It starts with hands and then hips and then they’re grinding in the mass of people and Blaine feels something release inside him. He grabs the guy by the back of the neck, kissing him deep and dirty, feeling it reverberate through his whole body with a moan. This is what he needs.

“You want to get out of here?” the guys asks when Blaine finally pulls back to gasp for air.

“Yes,” Blaine says without hesitation, and once again he’s getting into a stranger’s car, but this time he’s not even getting paid for it.

It makes Blaine feel better for a few days, so long as he pushes the guilt aside. He’s young, it’s healthy, he used protection. And Kurt isn’t his boyfriend, even if his texts have been getting more flirty lately. He can have sex with whoever he wants. He just kind of wishes he didn’t want to.

It becomes a habit, every few days, a different guy each time. He tells himself it’s not like New York. He has a choice in this. It feels so completely out of control though and the relief he feels after getting laid is drowned out by the shame quicker each time so that he just has to go do it all over again.

He slumps down on the couch beside Sam one night after having exchanged blowjobs in some guys car, staring at the videogame Sam’s playing, not even able to focus on the graphics.

“Do you think being a stripper changed you as a person?” he asks.

Sam pauses the game and looks at him. “What?”

Blaine keeps staring at the frozen screen. “Do you think it did something to you?”

“It made me more confident,” Sam says, his tone suggesting he’s reaching. “And…” He sighs, leaning back on the couch. “I lost my virginity. There didn’t seem any point in drawing the line anymore when I was using my body like that. Is that what you mean?”

Blaine nods his head, his eyes tearing up.

“Okay, but I don’t think that was a bad thing,” Sam says. “It empowered me.”

Blaine turns to face him. “I’ve been sleeping around,” he says. “If there’s someone in Lima that’s so much as bi-curious, he’s probably had his dick in some part of me by now.”

Sam raises his eyebrows. “Colourful.”

“I don’t know why I’m like this,” Blaine says desperately. “I had Kurt. Despite everything, somehow, he still wanted me. And I couldn’t stop selling my body. I couldn’t commit to him. I didn’t even need the money, I just kept doing it. I feel like maybe I broke something. I shattered all the boundaries and I can’t respect myself anymore. I just… I can’t stop throwing myself around because at least then I feel something. It stops it hurting for just a little bit. That’s not normal, Sam. I’m not normal.”

“Maybe it does change something,” Sam considers. “Turning your sexuality into a commodity. It’s a private thing. But I think it can be a part of you without having to define you. It’s never too late to draw that boundary back again it you want it.”

Blaine shakes his head, tears spilling over. “But I can’t stop. I don’t know how. It doesn’t just define me, I feel like it controls me.”

Sam pulls him into a hug, squeezing him tight. He holds him while he cries, rubbing his back until he quiets.

“I think this might be a little big for us to handle alone,” Sam says gently.

Blaine nods his head. There’s so much relief in someone else agreeing that he needs help, that this is serious, that he’s not just a drama queen and a slut. There’s something wrong with him. That means maybe he can be fixed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blaine sings [Fight Song by Rachel Platten](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xo1VInw-SKc)


	3. Chapter 3

The next day, Blaine sits down with his laptop. Sam is right, he needs professional help, but he can’t afford that right now. His rainy day fund is nowhere near big enough for the amount of therapy he doubtless needs. But maybe he can find something to help, to bridge the gap, to at least inspire him.

He’s not quite sure where to start, staring at the little cursor in Google. He’s scared to write anything in. He can feel the shame already, like his computer is going to judge him. It probably should. He takes a breath and places his fingers on the keyboard, typing in _unhealthy relationship with sex._

He scrolls through a few articles and blogs and certain things start to resonate. Risky sexual behaviour. Not respecting your body. Turning to sex when sad or anxious. Being unable to stop engaging in sexual behaviours, no matter how much shame you feel.

It’s when he ends up down the rabbit hole of sex and love addiction that it really clicks though. He’s heard of sex addiction, Kurt even said it to him flippantly once, but he’s never heard anyone talk about the love part. Being needy and smothering. Being desperate to please and fearful of disappointing. No healthy boundaries. Being jealous and possessive. Suffering depression and destructive behaviours after a break up.

_Once you have bonded with someone, you find it impossible to let go._

His eyes fill with tears that quickly spill over as he lets out a shuddery breath. It’s a list of all of his worst features. But that’s a good thing, he tells himself. It has a name. There’s support groups and treatments. This is a tangible thing he can fight. Seeing intrinsic parts of his personality listed as symptoms for a disease makes him feel like giving up before he even starts though.

He closes his laptop. He needs a break. He swipes at his eyes, ignoring the instinct to go and throw himself at any hot body just to take this feeling away. Instead, he grabs his gym bag.

An hour on the punching bag levels him out, or at least exhausts some of the anxiety inside him. He showers, washing away the sweat and easing his muscles with the warm water. Healthy coping mechanisms. That’s what he needs. He has to push away the shame and take control.

When Sam gets home from work, he stops in the living room doorway, looking over Blaine. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Blaine says, the word drawn out.

“Are you sure?” Sam asks carefully. “Because it’s 6pm and you’re sat there in what looks like someone’s grandpa’s pyjamas.”

Blaine looks down at himself. “These are nice pyjamas.”

“They’re really not,” Sam says, dropping his bag on the floor and sitting beside Blaine. “How are you doing?”

“I did a lot of reading today,” Blaine says. “And I found a meeting. Sex and love addicts anonymous. SLAA. I think it might help. I’m going to go along on Friday and see what it’s all about.”

“That sounds good,” Sam says. “Do you want me to go with you? For moral support?”

“I think I need to do it on my own,” Blaine says. “But thanks.”

“Hey, I’m here, bro,” Sam says. He taps his fingers on his thigh. “So you didn’t make dinner? It’s your day off.”

“I know, I’ve been busy,” Blaine says. “And I went to the gym. I am physically and mentally exhausted.”

“Hence the grandpa pyjamas,” Sam says with a nod, getting to his feet. “I’m going to grab the takeout menus.”

The meeting is in a church basement, just like all the stereotypes. Blaine feels like his heart is in his throat as he descends the stairs. It smells like cheap coffee and sweet pastries. There’s a circle of folding chairs. Blaine takes a seat, looking around. Everyone looks normal. He doesn’t know what he was expecting. He looks normal too, but he’s really really not.

An older guy named Robert calls the meeting to order and any chatter quiets down. Blaine crosses his ankles and wraps his arms around himself, eyes cast down on the floor. He listens to the discussion, to people’s thoughts and feelings, their experiences and recent struggles. It’s relatable to him. He understands their points of view. There’s something comforting about that.

“I can see that we have a new face tonight,” Robert says. Blaine looks up at him like a deer in the headlights. “You don’t have to say anything. You’re welcome to join us until you feel comfortable to share. But it would be nice to have a name at least.”

“I’m Blaine,” he says.

“Hi, Blaine,” they all chorus.

“Oh, wow, you guys really do that,” Blaine says. “Okay.”

“There’s certain ritualistic qualities,” the guy across from him says. “Don’t worry, we hardly ever sacrifice humans anymore.”

Blaine gives a little laugh. “Really? That’s the only reason I came here.” He shakes his head. “Yeah, so, I’m from Lima originally but I’ve been living in New York for the last few years. I had to get out of there though. I was in a really bad situation. I was a prostitute. By choice. I mean, I told myself I needed the money, but my friend got me a job, I had money, but I kept doing it. And I really hurt someone that I loved but I still couldn’t stop. And if I’d stayed there, I don’t think I ever would.”

“Then we’re glad you’re here,” Robert says.

Blaine gives a self-deprecating smile. “I’m not saying none of my bad habits came back with me. I just don’t get paid for it anymore.” He looks down at the floor, feeling himself deflate. “I don’t want to be that person. I don’t want to hate myself. I don’t understand why I can’t stop.” His voice cracks, tears pricking at his eyes, but he forces them back, setting his jaw.

“Because you’re ill,” Robert says plainly. “Addiction is a mental health issue. You can’t control it. But you can treat it. That’s what you’re doing by coming here. You took the first step and that’s the biggest step of all. The denial feedback loop is hard to break out of. But here you are. And we’re here to support you and if you need more resources, we can help you with that too.”

Blaine nods, a tear spilling down his cheek. He wipes it away. “Thank you.”

Robert gives him a smile. “Before you leave today, I need you to get someone’s number, at least one person. Your struggles aren’t ever going to be limited to this room, but if you have a sponsor then there’s always someone there when you need them. Okay?”

“Yeah,” Blaine says in a small voice.

“Okay,” Robert says, and then he’s turning back to the group, moving on.

The woman next to Blaine wordlessly hands him a tissue. He can’t help but laugh, unfolding it to wipe away his tears.

At the end of the meeting, Robert reaches under his chair for a wooden box, placing it on his lap as he opens it up. “We have an anniversary today,” he says, pulling out a coloured chip. “Aiden, happy 4 years.”

The guy across from Blaine who made the joke gets to his feet, shaking Robert’s hand and taking his chip as everybody claps.

“And Blaine,” Robert says, turning to look at him. “You get your first meeting chip. The most important one in my opinion. And the hardest. Now you just need to keep coming.”

Blaine stands up, going to collect his little plastic disc. “Thank you.”

“You earned it,” Robert says.

As everyone starts to break away, Blaine sits there, staring at his white chip. On one side it says _1 Day_ and _You are not alone._ On the other it has the letters SLAA.

“Hey.”

Blaine looks up to see Aiden sitting down beside him, offering a plate with a glazed pastry on it. “Thanks.”

“The first one’s a little overwhelming,” Aiden says.

“I’m glad I came,” Blaine says. “I mean, yeah, I’m completely overwhelmed, but it feels good to acknowledge it.”

Aiden nods. “Do you want my number?” he asks. “In case you want to discuss this human sacrifice idea further. Or if you need a sponsor.”

Blaine smiles. “Both sound good.”

The more meetings he goes to, the more he feels it slotting into place. Jeremiah at the GAP, his fantasy that he was going to be Blaine’s boyfriend, that maybe he already was. He’d made it all up in his head. And Kurt, the way he fell for him so hard and fast, the way it went from friends to all consuming as soon as Kurt showed the slightest interest. He transferred schools to be with him, threatened his education and all the friendships he’d built up at Dalton, for a boy. But then Kurt went off to New York and Blaine got left behind and he couldn’t handle it. The way he tried to sabotage their relationship before Kurt even left, the way he pulled back so that it would hurt less, the way he had no idea how to handle being apart. It’s all textbook. He can see that now.

He couldn’t even last a few weeks without Kurt there in front of him, without his immediate attention and affection. Blaine wasn’t the centre of his world anymore and it left him bereft and unloved and worthless feeling, so he went to the first willing person just to feel good about himself. All it did was make him feel worse.

It was a pattern he played out over and over with Kurt. Winning him, loving him, getting possessive and insecure and ruining it all. It wasn’t all fantasy though, not like his crush on Jeremiah. Blaine might have been stuck in an unhealthy cycle, but he loved Kurt. He _loves_ Kurt. He can’t believe that’s not true. And Kurt loved him back. They had something real. Blaine just never knew how to accept that and find those compromises that make things work in the real world.

Kurt still texts him most days and they get increasingly suggestive. One day he simply texts Blaine _OOTD?_

Blaine stares at it and contemplates Urban Dictionary before just texting back _What?_

The response is instantaneous. _Outfit of the day._

He can hear Kurt’s disparaging tone, see the roll of his eyes. It makes him smile. He goes to the full length mirror by the apartment door, taking a photograph of himself in his colourful striped sweater and navy pants, sending it to Kurt without comment.

The only response he gets is _Nice._

He frowns at his phone. _What’s this for?_

_Inspiration._

_For a design?_ Blaine asks.

_Sure. Let’s go with that._

It sounds like flirting. Maybe. From Kurt that sounds like flirting. Blaine has no idea how to deal with that right now, so he just slides his phone back into his pocket.

Kurt sends him the same text every few days between their other exchanges, _OOTD_ , and Blaine takes a mirror selfie by the front door and sends it to him. Sometimes he gets a compliment. Sometimes he can’t figure out why Kurt wants the pictures at all. It feels strangely intimate in a way that Blaine can’t put his finger on.

One day, he decides to start the exchange himself and see how it plays out. _OOTD?_

Kurt sends him back a shirtless photograph of himself lying back on his couch. Blaine stares at it. Fuck. There’s no way that’s not flirting. He calls Kurt’s number and it barely rings before Kurt picks it up.

“Well, hello.”

“Are you serious?” Blaine asks.

“That’s what I’m wearing,” Kurt says defensively.

“You’re just lounging around your apartment half-naked?” Blaine asks. “It’s February.”

“Who said anything about half?” Kurt asks.

Blaine takes a breath, trying to steady himself. Half of him wants to hang up, and the other half wants to put his hand down his pants. Neither are smart decisions.

“Sorry,” Kurt says, sounding a little sheepish.

“No,” Blaine dismisses. “I’m just…”

He’s so confused. Confused about what Kurt could possibly want from him, confused over whether he’s just a booty call because there’s no way Kurt could see him as anything but a slut. Confused about want he even wants. No, he knows what he wants, he wants Kurt. He just can’t work out if he’s supposed to.

“Are you coming back to Lima anytime soon?” Blaine asks.

“I could,” Kurt says. “What’s up?”

“Can we talk whenever you do come back?”

“Yeah,” Kurt says. “But we’re talking now.”

“But I can’t see your face,” Blaine responds.

“Facetime?” Kurt suggests.

“I want to do it in person,” Blaine says.

“Okay,” Kurt says. “I’ll let you know when I’ll be over there next.”

“Thank you.”

There’s a silence as they both hang on the line.

“Can I still text you?” Kurt asks.

“I like it when you text me,” Blaine says.

“Good,” Kurt says. “I’ll see you soon.”

He talks about Kurt at his next meeting, about how he’s going to tell him the truth. He gets advice and stories and cautions. You can’t control how another person is going to react and there’s always a certain stigma that comes with addiction. Blaine knows without honesty they can’t have anything though. He’s going to fuck this up one way or another, it might as well be with the truth.

Kurt tones down his texts and he doesn’t ask for any more photographs. He calls more though, usually in the evenings, and one time he falls asleep on the phone and Blaine just listens to him breathe, not wanting to hang up. They used to do this when Kurt first went to New York. It was less creepy then though. But Kurt’s the one who keeps calling him so late.

When Kurt books a ticket back to Ohio, Blaine starts to unravel. This is what he wanted. This is what he asked for. But the reality of having to look Kurt in the eye and say those words just fills him with shame and dread. It brings back that itch, the one that made him want to cut himself open. He’s been so good. He’s gone to meetings and spoken to his sponsor, but the sickening feeling is here again. He doesn’t know if it’s desire for Kurt or destruction.

He can barely concentrate on work that week and he’s tempted to call in sick, but Burt knows that Kurt is coming back, that he’s coming to see Blaine. He doesn’t want to make a bad impression before Kurt even gets here. So he keeps his head down and he talks himself through every repair he does because then his inner-monologue can’t take over, plus the muttering seems to keep Burt at the other side of the shop. Win-win.

The night before Kurt is due, Blaine can’t sit at home. He grabs his gym bag and to work out, but when he ends up in the parking lot of Scandals, he’s not exactly surprised. He doesn’t let it resonate, just climbs out of his car and strides towards the door, flashing his ID at security. They know him by name now.

He feels predatory as he steps inside, eyes scanning the bodies on the dancefloor. Someone comes to stand beside him. He’s hot but Blaine recognises him. He’s not going to risk forming an attachment by sleeping with someone twice.

“Been a while,” the guy says. Blaine never even knew his name.

“Not you,” Blaine says, stepping onto the dancefloor and getting lost.

He goes home with an older guy who wants Blaine to ride him. Blaine rolls a condom down his cock, feeling proud of himself, and then he fucks himself on it, closing his eyes and arching his back and feeling the raw, primal instincts surge through him. This is what humans are supposed to do. Well, maybe not exactly this, but baby making. Then again, God is the one who put the male g-spot in their ass.

As soon as he comes, the cold, sick feeling creeps in. He can’t even hold onto the buzz for ten seconds. He balls his hands up into fists and climbs off the guy, grabbing his pants. He feels like he’s in shock, like he’s having an out of body experience, but this is all him. This is who he is.

He gets into his car and drives home, but once he’s parked up his phone dings in his pocket. He pulls it out and sees a text from Kurt. He feels like he’s going to throw up.

_Good night, sleep tight. I’ll see you tomorrow xx_

Blaine drops the phone down into the passenger seat and grips the steering wheel, resting his head against it as he cries, all gasping and snotty and ugly. Kurt cares about him. He’s fucking adorable. Who sends that kind of text to someone who’s not their boyfriend? God, Blaine is going to tear him apart all over again.

He wipes at his face with the back of his sleeve, his heart racing, and he yearns for his street in New York, a stranger and some cash. It would ground him. The man from Scandals didn’t work, but maybe this would.

He reaches for his phone, trying to avoid seeing the message from Kurt again as he exits out of the message, finding Aiden’s number.

“Hey,” Aiden greets. “Everything okay?”

“No,” Blaine says, his voice cold and wet and broken. “Nothing is okay.”

“Tell me what’s going on,” Aiden says.

“Kurt’s coming to see me tomorrow,” Blaine says. “So obviously I thought it would be the perfect time to go have sex with a stranger.”

“Is that something you wanted to do or something you did?” Aiden asks.

“I did it,” Blaine says. “And then I got a cute text from Kurt. If I didn’t hate myself enough already, that just pushed me completely over the edge.”

“Where are you now?” Aiden asks.

“My apartment,” Blaine says. “Well, I’m sat outside it in my car. But I don’t want to go in.”

“What do you want to do?” Aiden asks.

Blaine sighs. “If I were in New York I’d go to the place I used to pick up tricks. I don’t know where that is here, but I’d cruise all night to find it with the way I’m feeling now.”

“If you do anything else right now, you’re going to feel worse, not better,” Aiden tells him. “You know that. That’s why you called me.”

“I already fucked it up,” Blaine says. “Might as well make a party out of it now.”

“You made a mistake,” Aiden says. “And you knew that was a very real possibility. It’s not easy, especially when you’re still trying to get your head around this. You’re learning and you’re growing and I’m sorry, but you’re going to backslide. I can get you through that. Don’t throw it all away. Don’t give up on Kurt yet.”

Blaine feels the tears filling his eyes again. “That’s not fair of you to use his name.”

“You gotta remember what you’re fighting for,” Aiden says. “Go into your apartment, Blaine. Take a shower. Go to bed. Try again tomorrow.”

Blaine sags against his chair. “Okay.” He pulls the keys out of the ignition, opening the car door. “Thanks, Aiden.”

“Any time,” Aiden says. “Literally. And if you want to go to a meeting tomorrow, I’ll find one for you, just let me know.”

“I will,” Blaine says, heading towards the building. “Night.”

“Good night, Blaine,” Aiden says. “Text me tomorrow.”

Blaine sleeps in late the next day, Sam already gone by the time he gets up. He eats breakfast on the couch in front of the TV and then takes an extended shower, even though he already scrubbed himself last night. He doesn’t feel clean. Maybe he never will.

When he gets dressed, he looks through his closet through Kurt’s eyes, trying to put together an outfit that Kurt would pick out for him. He loved the affectionate way that Kurt used to tell him what looked good together. Was that just another way that he was co-dependent? Yeah, it definitely was. How was he ever supposed to untangle all this and figure out what a healthy relationship looks like?

He settles on his red pants, a striped Henley and a chunky sweater. Nice, but not making too much effort. Comfortable. He rolls his eyes at himself as he checks his outfit in the mirror. He’s way overthinking this. He pauses though, let’s himself appreciate the way his body has changed, the definition back in his muscles, making his clothes fit so much better. He needs to be gentle with himself. That’s what Aiden told him when they texted earlier. He needs to remember that he’s healing.

Kurt arrives after lunch, knocking on the door with a cheery little tempo. Blaine goes to open it, taking him in. He looks like he just stepped off a catwalk, not a plane. Blaine frowns. He feels suddenly underdressed. He should have seen that coming.

“Are you okay?” Kurt asks. “I was hoping for smiles and ‘great to see you’s.”

Blaine lifts his eyes up, finally meeting Kurt’s gaze. “Yeah, sorry,” he says shaking his head. “I didn’t get much sleep last night. But it is great to see you. Thank you for coming.”

“You know, I’m here for a few days,” Kurt says. “We can do this another time. I can come back tomorrow.”

“No,” Blaine says a little too desperately. “No, sorry, come in.” He steps out of the way, and then follows Kurt through to the living room. “Do you want a drink or something?”

“No, thanks, I just had way too much tea with Carole,” Kurt says. “We were having a little girl talk.” He shrugs off his coat, placing it over the back of a chair.

“I should hang that up for you,” Blaine says, trying to take it.

“It’s fine,” Kurt says. “Come sit with me.”

They sit on the couch together, Blaine clasping his hands together and placing them between his knees. He has no idea to where to start.

“What’s going on with you?” Kurt asks. His voice is kind, full of concern, and it makes Blaine’s skin crawl because he doesn’t deserve it.

He doesn’t have any words and so instead he reaches into his pocket, pulling out his little white chip. He always keeps it close. It helps to just hold it in his hand when he’s anxious or overwhelmed. Sometimes. It didn’t help last night. He passes it over to Kurt who looks at it, turning it over in his hand.

“What’s SLAA?”

Blaine takes a deep breath. “Sex and love addicts anonymous.”

Kurt looks up at him, raising an eyebrow. “Sex addiction?”

“And love,” Blaine says. “That part’s important.”

“Okay,” Kurt says carefully, looking back down at the chip in his hand. “And this is yours?”

“Yeah,” Blaine says. He can feel the blush creeping up his cheeks. “I’ve been going to meetings. It’s helping. Mostly. I’m trying to figure things out.”

Kurt nods, still looking at the chip.

“It’s not about having a high sex drive or being a slut or something,” Blaine says. “It’s about your relationship with love and sex. It’s about how you use them and how you to respond to them. I mean, as an example, it’s buying an engagement ring for somebody you’re not even dating because he broke up with you because you cheated on him because you couldn’t handle not being the centre of his world for five seconds and it made you feel like you’d been abandoned and no one would ever love you again so you had a random hook up because you just had to be desirable to prove that you were worth something.”

“Just as an example?” Kurt says dryly.

Blaine laughs before looking up at Kurt. “I proposed to you the day after you agreed to be my boyfriend again,” he says. “Doesn’t that seem a little insane to you?”

“Oh, yeah, that’s completely crazy,” Kurt agrees. “I knew that when you did it. Still said yes.”

Blaine grimaces at the memory. “You shouldn’t have done. All I ever did was push and push. I pushed you into crazy, unrealistic commitments and I pushed you away when anything didn’t line up perfectly with my fantasy. God, you were so right to call off the wedding. I was unhinged. I don’t think you were even a person to me at that point, you were an ideal and any time you didn’t live up to that I just used to go off on you.”

“Huh,” Kurt says, staring down at the chip in his hand, lips pursed together.

Blaine can’t tell what he’s thinking. It’s freaking him out. “Kurt?”

“I’m just processing,” Kurt says, gesturing to his head. He turns the chip over in his fingers slowly a few times.

“I just want you to know that I’m telling you all of this with no expectations,” Blaine says. “I’m not telling you so that you’ll give me sympathy or because I feel like it excuses everything I’ve done to you because it doesn’t. But it’s the truth. And I want to give you that much. But I have no expectations of getting anything in return. I just think you deserve to know. And I want you to know. And I want any future interactions between us to be informed by it.”

Kurt nods, looking up at him. “Thank you for telling me,” he says. “I really appreciate it. All I ever wanted was the truth. It sounds so much better than a pretty lie.” He holds out the chip to Blaine, smiling at him as he takes it, holding it tight in his palm. “I think you need to concentrate on you right now.”

Blaine takes a breath, the words instantly feeling like a rejection, despite how self-aware he was seconds ago. It’s so hard to hold onto that feeling. “I think you’re right.” The admission hurts because he wants Kurt more than anything. It’s toxic and so unfair on Kurt, but fuck he wants it. “I really do love you more than anyone or anything else in the world.” His voice is wet, tears threatening to spill over. He wishes he could go just one day without crying.

Kurt smiles at him, soft and reassuring. “Same.”

Blaine isn’t sure what to do with the flurry of hope that comes with that single word. He’s instantly conjuring up happy ever afters while the persecutory voice in his head tells him that Kurt is just teasing him. Humouring him. Doesn’t he remember that rejection a few moments ago? He’s not Kurt’s problem. He has to do this on his own. But Kurt loves him. That shouts louder than anything.

“Do you want to go see a movie tonight?” Kurt asks.

Blaine looks at him, bemused for a second, before he starts to laugh. The suggestion is so normal it feels absurd after the conversation they’ve just had. It cuts through the tension though and takes the heaviness off Blaine’s chest.

“Yeah,” he says. “I’d like that.”

After Kurt goes back to New York, Blaine focuses on his goals with renewed conviction. Good habits only. He wants to beat this. He wants to have a life again someday that doesn’t revolve around it. He wants his love to be something other than destructive. And he tries not to think about the fact that he wants Kurt. This has to be about him. He has to do it for himself.

He goes to his meetings and he’s brutally honest, not wanting to hide anything anymore. The shame is so outweighed by the regret now that all he wants is to drain the poison and maybe then, when it’s all laid out, he can sort through the mess and bile and figure out who he is without it. He doesn’t ever want to let it back in, but it burns there in his gut, a reminder that it’s a part of him, even if he can find a way to keep it down.

He spends a lot of time with Sam and his endless positivity, and because Regionals are coming up, that means spending a lot of time with the glee club. It feels like a safe space. Sure, there’s bitchfights and backstabbing, but there’s also a common goal and a passion for what they’re doing and bonds that Blaine knows will last a lifetime. He still loves everyone he shared this room with. They’ll always be in his heart.

The passion will always be in his heart too, he realises. He’d closed down that part of himself when he’d flunked out of NYADA. One more thing he’d sabotaged his way out of. But he loves singing. He loves playing the piano or the guitar, loves moving to music. Watching the kids makes him want to get up and join in. He is way too old for that and he had his day, but he does start strumming on Sam’s guitar when they’re at home, and he goes to pick up his old keyboard from his parents’ place. It soothes him. It makes him feel like he’s putting beauty into the world instead of taking something out of it.

He and Kurt still talk all the time, but there’s no flirting now. They’re friends. And Blaine is happy with that. He’s grateful for that. On some days it feels like so much more than he deserves, berating himself for still wanting more.

“I am so lazy,” Kurt says as a greeting one night, and Blaine can practically hear him crashing down on the couch.

“I don’t think that’s possible,” Blaine responds, standing from the couch where he and Sam were watching a basketball game and taking the phone through to his bedroom.

“Takeout,” Kurt says, clearly having just taken a bite of something. “I don’t want to eat alone. Talk to me.”

“You don’t have some models or A-listers you could be eating with?” Blaine teases.

“I’m wearing sweatpants and my hair is everywhere and I’m eating enough Mexican food to feed a family,” Kurt says. Blaine smiles, storing that visual away for later. “Lazy,” Kurt reiterates.

“Uh-huh,” Blaine says, sitting down on his bed. “And how many hours did you work today?”

“Oh, who’s counting?” Kurt dismisses.

“You should be,” Blaine says.

“Ugh, I did not come here to be judged,” Kurt complains. “Be lazy with me.”

“I already ate, but okay,” Blaine says, lying back on his bed.

“What did you have?” Kurt asks. “It better be unhealthy.”

“I went to a farmer’s market this weekend actually so I ended up making this amazing salad,” Blaine says. “It was so fresh and I shredded some mozzarella through it and made a dressing.”

“Why would you hurt me like that?” Kurt asks, deadpan.

Blaine laughs. “I’ll send you the recipe.”

“We should cook together,” Kurt says. “Tomorrow, do you want to cook dinner tomorrow.”

Blaine frowns. “Are you going to be in Lima?”

“No, we’d have to do it over the phone,” Kurt says. “Or facetime. It will be fun.”

“I can’t tomorrow,” Blaine says. “We have glee practice until late to get ready for Regionals.”

“We?” Kurt asks. “Are you reliving your glory days, Blaine Warbler?”

“How depressing that my glory days were over in high school,” Blaine says.

“No,” Kurt insists. “I didn’t mean that. You have a bright future.”

“I don’t know about that,” Blaine says. “But at least I have a future. I’m counting the small victories right now. Speaking of which, I got my one month chip. It’s yellow and it matches my sunglasses so I’m looking forward to brighter days.”

“Blaine, that’s fantastic,” Kurt says, his voice so bright it makes Blaine’s heart clench. “Oh, I am so proud of you.”

“Yeah, I managed to not whore myself out for a whole month,” Blaine says dryly. “Someone should really throw me a parade.”

“They should,” Kurt says. “Don’t downplay this.”

“No, I’m proud,” Blaine admits in a small voice.

“Good,” Kurt says. “And we are going to cook together some time soon. If I keep eating like this, I’m not going to fit into my own designs. I need an intervention.”

“Oh, I know,” Blaine says. “Hot coconut water, Splenda, garlic salt, a splash of hot sauce, and then jog until you hallucinate.”

“How do I hire you as my personal trainer?” Kurt asks.

“I’m very exclusive, I’m not sure you’re a big enough deal,” Blaine responds.

Kurt laughs, such a light and joyous sound. It makes Blaine smile and yearn and hold the phone tighter. Kurt yawns.

“I have a food baby,” he says. “And I have an early meeting tomorrow. I should sleep.”

“Okay,” Blaine says. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“We’ll set up that cooking date,” Kurt says.

“Sure,” Blaine agrees, trying not to get hung up on the word _date_. “Sleep well.”

“Mmm, goodnight,” Kurt says.

After they hang up, Blaine doesn’t move for a long time. He lies there, staring at the ceiling, phone still clutched in his hand, and he thinks things that he’s not supposed to think. He thinks about Kurt in sweatpants. Thinks about the way they cling to him when he moves. Thinks about him crawling into bed and making that contented little sound as his body sinks into the mattress. Thinks about holding him and playing his fingers through Kurt’s hair. Thinks about Kurt snuggling closer. It’s so inappropriate and so disrespectful to Kurt.

He reaches into his pocket, pulling out his yellow one month chip and rubbing his thumb against the engraving over and over. It’s such an intimate scene he imagines in his head, so domestic, and yet it hits him like a sexual fantasy and makes him feel dirty all over. And that makes him want to get dirty for real. And that makes him want to cry.

He sits up, looking down at his chip. He’s done this for a month. He hasn’t touched another person since Kurt came to visit him. But that’s not the point, is it? He’s still making up fairy tale scenarios in his head. He’s still tying his hopes and dreams into a relationship when he’s supposed to be focusing on self-growth and self-reliance and just _self._

He grabs his keyboard, starting to play, favourite melodies and songs he has memorised. It distracts him for a bit, but he knows this isn’t going to cut it. He needs something more. The itch is back and he feels like he’ll have to tear his skin off to get to it.

He stands up, putting his chip back in his pocket as he strides out of his room, passing Sam in the living room as he goes to fetch his coat.

“I’m going out.”

“I feel like I should stop you,” Sam says, sounding uncertain. He gets to his feet. “Yeah, I’m going to stop you.”

“You don’t have to stop me,” Blaine says.

“I think I do,” Sam says. “Because you just got that cool little yellow plastic thing. Don’t you want to get a whole rainbow? Yay, gay pride.”

Blaine stares at him. “That’s…” He shakes his head, deciding it’s not worth it. “I’m going to go sing some karaoke.”

“Okay,” Sam says slowly, narrowing his eyes at him. “I don’t believe you.”

Blaine laughs. “You can come with me if you want. But I just want to sing. I want to get some energy out and maybe just be inescapably in the spotlight for a moment so there’s no room for anyone else in my head.”

“Yeah, alright, that makes some kind of sense,” Sam says. “But I am coming with you. And if you go to the bathroom, I go to the bathroom.”

“What are best friends for if not that?” Blaine responds.

Sam slaps him on the shoulder and grabs his coat.

Singing his heart out to Katy Perry is the greatest cure of all. He should have seen that one coming. He sings into the microphone and dances around the stage and just lets himself enjoy it.

_You hear my voice, you hear that sound_  
_Like thunder, gonna shake the ground_  
_You held me down, but I got up_  
_Get ready 'cause I had enough_  
_I see it all, I see it now_

Sam grins at him from the bar, bobbing his head along to the music, and it feels so much like being kids, but it feels better than that. He’s in control of this. He doesn’t have to wait for someone to give him a solo. He doesn’t have to wait for permission. He can have this whenever he wants.

_I got the eye of the tiger, a fighter_  
_Dancing through the fire_  
_'Cause I am a champion_  
_And you're gonna hear me roar_

When he sings those words, he believes them, just like he believed it when he sung to the glee club. Positive affirmations. Self-belief. If you think you’re going to fail, you already have. So Blaine has decided that he’s not going to fail. Not this time.

The karaoke bar becomes his new favourite place to go when nothing else will settle that feeling inside him. Meetings help. The gym helps. The glee club helps. He keeps busy and distracted and tries to convince himself it’s alright to be alone. He can just be him for a while. He doesn’t need anyone to validate his existence. He tries so hard to believe that.

When he’s up on that stage, he doesn’t feel alone though. The other patrons always enjoy his songs, cheering extra loud and massaging his ego. And okay, maybe applause is a form of affection. Maybe that’s why it soothes that needy little part of him. But he’s making no promises to anybody and he’s expecting nothing back. He just wants to get on their tiny stage and sing one of his favourite songs.

“I’m coming back Lima,” Kurt singsongs into the phone at him.

“Oh, when?” Blaine asks, taking his phone to the back of the choir room as the kids start to come in.

“Next weekend,” Kurt says. “You want to do something?”

Blaine deflates. “It’s Regionals next weekend. I promised I’d be a chaperone.”

“Oh,” Kurt says brightly, in that way that means he’s definitely just lost his footing. “That’ll be fun. Do you have to do sweeps for alcohol and make sure there’s no inappropriate touching?”

“I don’t know,” Blaine says distractedly, turning to watch the kids taking their seats. “But I’ll be back on Sunday. If you wanted to meet up then.”

“Sunday works for me,” Kurt says. “I’m on a redeye that night, but I’m sure we can work it out.”

“Cool,” Blaine says.

“Blaine, come show me that move,” Hugo, one of the kids, shouts across at him.

“Sounds like your little protegees need you,” Kurt says.

“I’m sorry,” Blaine says. “I can call you back later.”

“No, don’t worry, we’re going to see each other soon,” Kurt says.

“Right,” Blaine agrees. He so desperately doesn’t want to hang up the phone though.

“I’m glad you’re busy,” Kurt says. “It’s good for you. We’ll catch up soon.”

“Yeah, speak soon,” Blaine agrees. “Can’t wait to see you.”

“You too,” Kurt responds, hanging on the line for just a moment before he disconnects the call.

“Blaine?” Hugo prompts.

“Right, yeah, sorry,” Blaine says, shoving his phone back into his pocket.

Watching Regionals from the audience is even more nerve-wracking than being up there on stage. He wants it just as badly, but he has no control over it. He and Sam have done their part, now all they can do is hope that the kids nail it and show that heart and soul Blaine knows they have in spades. He feels silly for being nervous though once he sees them up there. They’re amazing and Blaine couldn’t be prouder.

When they get back to McKinley on Sunday afternoon, Kurt is waiting in the parking lot and Blaine forgets everything about the last couple of days. He’s the first one off the bus.

“Hi,” he says, hugging Kurt before he even has time to process it. He blushes, but then realises Kurt is hugging him back.

“Hi,” Kurt returns. “How did it go?”

“We won,” Sam says, coming down the steps of the bus behind Blaine. “Obviously.”

“Sam,” Kurt says, moving over to pull him into a hug. “Congratulations, guys.”

“Nationals here we come,” Sam says. He looks at Blaine. “I assume you’re getting out of here.”

“Are you okay with them?” Blaine asks. “I can wait with you.”

“Get out of here,” Sam insists.

“I was hoping to take you to dinner,” Kurt says.

“Oh yeah, and where are you going to take me?” Blaine asks. “Do I need to go home and fetch a bowtie?”

“You do look pretty naked without it,” Kurt responds.

“Your flirting is so adorable,” Sam says, smiling at them both. Blaine turns to give him a death glare. “Right, yeah, I should go make sure all the kids are still alive, I guess,” Sam says. “Nice seeing you, Kurt.”

“You too,” Kurt agrees.

“And I won’t wait up, Blaine,” Sam says with a wink and nudge of his elbow.

“Oh my god,” Blaine groans, his eyes nearly rolling right to the back of his head. As Sam goes to herd the kids back together, Blaine looks at Kurt. “I’m sorry about him. I mostly tune him out.”

“I don’t know, I think we’re pretty adorable,” Kurt says. “Dinner?”

“Dinner,” Blaine says decisively, following Kurt to his rental car.

They don’t go anywhere fancy, just a little café in town, but it’s a place without history for them and Blaine is grateful for that. He’s trying so hard to make this a fresh start, to separate what they were from what they are now, whatever that is.

“So, how are you?” Kurt asks once they’ve ordered.

“It was really great to see the kids win,” Blaine says. “They deserved it, they were great.”

“Yeah, I don’t care about them,” Kurt says dismissively. “I asked about _you_?”

Blaine looks down at the table, straightening his cutlery. “I’m okay.”

“Well, I’m glad I bothered coming all the way here for that update,” Kurt says.

Blaine frowns at him. “You didn’t come here just to see me.”

There’s a moment of hesitation, just a fraction too long to not mean anything. “No,” Kurt says. “It’s Carole’s birthday. I’m the only kind of kid she has now so I always try and make it back and spoil her.”

“That’s really sweet of you,” Blaine says, unable to fight back a smile. “I bet she really appreciates that.”

“What can I say, I’m spectacular at everything,” Kurt says offhandedly.

“Except painting,” Blaine reminds him.

Kurt smirks. “You’ve been taking notes. But stop changing the subject. I want to know how you are.”

Blaine shrugs. “I’m fine.”

“Would you care to expand on that?” Kurt asks.

“You’re making me feel like I’m at a job interview,” Blaine says. “Your dad hired me with a lot less questions than this.”

Kurt’s posture changes and he looks vulnerable. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

Blaine opens his mouth to respond but the waitress comes over with their food. Blaine smiles and thanks her and then turns back to Kurt who looks like someone just kicked his puppy. Why the fuck is Blaine making small talk when he finally has Kurt in front of him? It’s so easy on the phone, but now he’s self-conscious and second-guessing and he’s put his guard up without even meaning to.

“I’m working towards my three month chip,” he says, trying to sound casual.

Kurt smiles at him, the light coming back into his eyes. “You’re still on track?”

“Yeah,” Blaine says, realising that’s what Kurt was really trying to get out of him, but he didn’t want to ask, or maybe he thought it wasn’t his place. Blaine reaches into his pocket, taking out the yellow chip. “I like these things. I like having little goals that feel manageable and then getting a gold star at the end of it. I’m working on it, but the big picture is way too big right now. But I could go to my first meeting. And I could make it month,” he says, flipping the chip over in his hand. “So I can make three months. It’s only five more weeks now. If I don’t look any further than that, I can do it.”

“I’m glad it’s helping,” Kurt says. “You can totally do it.”

“I know I have to actually fix things,” Blaine says. “I’m not just ticking off the months, I’m working on things there. I’m trying to consciously adjust the way I think. And I want to get a therapist so I can really deep dive into it. I can’t afford it right now, but I’m saving. I know my mom would pay for it, but then I’d have to explain to her why I need a therapist and I cannot do that.”

“I believe in you,” Kurt says. “I know this means a lot to you. And I’m on your side. I want to make sure you know that.”

Blaine smiles, feeling a flush rise up his body. “Thank you.”

The conversation moves onto lighter subjects, Kurt happily chattering on about his new projects, and Blaine could listen to him for hours. It doesn’t even really matter what he says. Except that it _does_ matter and so Blaine listens. Being besotted and letting it all wash over him while he stares at Kurt and gets lost in his eyes and the bright tone of his voice, that’s a fantasy. The words matter. The content matters. Loving Kurt was easy. This is the part he never paid enough attention to.

When the check comes, Blaine goes to pick it up but Kurt grabs it first, pulling out his wallet.

“Let me pay,” Blaine says. “You flew all the way out here.”

“My treat,” Kurt dismisses. “I invited you, remember?”

“Split it?” Blaine suggests.

“Absolutely not,” Kurt says, placing cash down on the table. “So, do you need to get home or…”

“No,” Blaine says. “When’s your flight.”

“I don’t need to be at the airport until ten,” Kurt says. “So if you wanted to hang out or something…”

Blaine smiles, leaning forward on the table. “Do you want to sing karaoke with me?”

Kurt raises his eyebrow. “Karaoke?”

“Sometimes I get… restless,” Blaine says. “It gets a bit overwhelming in my head. I used to go to Scandals, which is tragic, and I won’t be making it to that three month chip if I go there anymore. So I’ve been singing karaoke. It’s fun and it frees something up in me. Healthy coping mechanism. I think. I’m kind of always waiting for the other shoe to drop, for me fuck it all up again.”

Kurt reaches across the table, placing his hand on top of Blaine’s. “You’re not going to fuck it up,” he says, the words filled with sincerity. “And I would love to sing karaoke with you.”

This early on a Sunday evening isn’t exactly peak time at the bar, but Blaine likes that. It feels more intimate. Some nights he likes big crowds and a party atmosphere, but right now he just wants to sing with Kurt. He wants to have some fun.

They flick through the selections together before picking a song that fits their mood perfectly, hopping up on stage. Blaine starts, the words more directed at Kurt than the people watching them.

_I got this feelin' inside my bones_  
_It goes electric, wavy when I turn it on_  
_All through my city, all through my home_  
_We're flyin' up, no ceilin', when we in our zone_

Kurt is dancing beside him, meeting his gaze with bright eyes and a happy smile. He does a spin before taking over the vocals.

_I got that sunshine in my pocket_  
_Got that good soul in my feet_  
_I feel that hot blood in my body when it drops_

Blaine harmonises with him, feeling himself drawn closer. Kurt is so confident and talented, owning the stage. That’s not a fantasy, that’s a fact that’s right in front of him. Blaine can’t stop watching.

He grabs the first line of the chorus, moving back to give Kurt some space to throw some dance moves.

_Nothin' I can see but you when you dance, dance, dance_

Kurt’s body moves with a fluidity that Blaine doesn’t think he’s seen before. He strikes a pose at the end, singing the next line as he looks at Blaine to do the next moves.

_Feel a good, good creepin' up on you_  
_So just dance, dance, dance, come on_

It feels so good to just go with the rhythm, let his body be physical in a way that’s not destructive like sex or violent like boxing. It’s just joy and he feels like he reclaims some tiny part of himself.

_All those things I shouldn't do_  
_But you dance, dance, dance_

He feels so in sync with Kurt, passing the words and the dancing back and forth, sharing it between them and appreciating each other shine.

_And ain't nobody leavin' soon, so keep dancin'_

They move around each other on the stage, trading verses back and forth. It’s so easy to fall back into this, to anticipate what the other is going to do, to play off each other. By the end of the song they’re together in the middle of the stage, about half an inch away from grinding against one another.

The music stops and they stand there for a moment, breath coming heavy, and they’re so close they could kiss, it feels like they _should_ kiss. But then applause breaks out and Kurt looks out at the crowd with a grin, breaking the moment. Blaine laughs, too much adrenaline pumping through his veins.

“Let’s get a drink,” Kurt says.

Blaine nods, trying to blink away the love hearts in his eyes.

They sit at the bar with a couple of sodas, catching their breath and collecting themselves. It feels so comfortable, even though Blaine has the urge to lean against Kurt’s side and rest his head on his shoulder.

“You were amazing up there,” Kurt says.

Blaine shrugs. “We still make a pretty good team.”

“No, Blaine, you belong on a stage,” Kurt says. “One that people are actually going to pay you to get on.”

Blaine stares at him for a moment, seeing the possibility stretch out in front of him. He shakes his head. “I had my chance.”

“Dreams are worth something, you know,” Kurt says. “Don’t throw them away.”

Blaine purses his lips together, stirring his soda with his straw so that the ice cubes knock against the side of the glass. It was his dream, right before everything else. Before his sexuality or love or any number of concepts he didn’t know existed yet. He allows wanted to perform. He’s been working all this time to fight a path through the wilderness, it never occurred to him to get back on a well-travelled one that served him for so long.

“You should come to New York,” Kurt says. “Come visit me.”

Blaine looks up at him. “I’m not sure I’m ready to face that city again.”

“You love New York,” Kurt insists.

“Not all of it,” Blaine says. “Not always. There are things there that you don’t get in Lima, Ohio. That fact might have just saved my life here.”

“I’d be with you,” Kurt says. “I mean, if you don’t think it’s a good idea, I get it. You need to put yourself and your recovery first. Is that the right word? Recovery?”

“I hadn’t really thought about it,” Blaine says.

“I just thought it would be fun,” Kurt says.

“It probably would,” Blaine agrees. “I’ll think about it.”

Kurt smiles at him. “Thank you.”

Kurt drops Blaine off at his apartment on his way to the airport. It’s quiet inside, the lights off, so Blaine thinks Sam must be having an early night. He doesn’t blame him, this weekend has been exhausting, even without his impromptu dance date with Kurt. No, not date. They’re just friends. Just friends doing friendly things like dancing provocatively at each other on a stage. To be fair, in glee club, that kind of was a friend activity.

Blaine shakes his head, grabbing himself a glass of water and going through to his bedroom. His heart is still beating a little too fast, but his brain is exhausted. He slips into his pyjamas, climbing into bed and sighing in bliss at finally being horizontal. He closes his eyes, snuggling into the blanket, and all he can see behind his closed eyelids is Kurt, his hips, the obscene way he moved. No, that’s not fair, Blaine shouldn’t be sexualising him. He was just dancing. But Blaine knows all too well what else those hips can do.

Blaine makes a disgruntled noise, turning over as though he can reset the images in his brain. But they were so close. He could feel the heat from Kurt’s body. He could feel Kurt’s breath on his skin. And now he’s hard. He curls his hand into a fist.

He wants to touch himself. He wants to wrap his hand around his dick and remember every filthy thing that he and Kurt have done to each other, every filthy thing they _could_ do to each other, and then he wants to come with Kurt’s name on his lips. Which is horribly disrespectful. And his dick is even harder.

No. This is not happening. It’s absolutely not. He throws the blanket back and gets to his feet, walking through to the living room. If bed is where the sex stuff happens, Blaine’s not going anywhere near it. And he is not going to think about any of the sexy things that he and Kurt have ever done somewhere that wasn’t a bed.

He sits down in the dark room and turns the TV on, putting the volume at a murmur so he doesn’t disturb Sam. He finds a Real Housewives marathon and hugs a cushion to himself as he curls up to watch it. He’s just going to stay here until his stupid, hormonal body calms down. Then he can go to sleep.

Two episodes later, his eyes are dropping closed, but he still doesn’t trust himself to go and lie down. He hates this feeling, reducing everything to sex. He’s disgusting. All he wants to do is touch himself. Maybe finger himself. He wants to straddle Kurt’s body and ride him until they both come.

He squeezes his eyes shut, but the tears still escape. He’s such a wretched, pathetic excuse for a person. For a friend. Kurt would never speak to him again if he knew. But Kurt should know, he knows what Blaine was doing in New York, knows better than anyone what a fucked-up slut he is.

The door to the apartment opens and Blaine jumps, swiping the tears from his eyes and placing the cushion down in his lap. Sam comes in, dropping his keys down and then stopping when he notices Blaine in the dark.

“What are you doing?”

“I thought you were in bed,” Blaine says, glancing at Sam’s bedroom door.

“Oh, no, I took the kids to Breadstix to celebrate,” Sam says. “And then I ran into some colleagues who decided I needed a real celebration.” He comes into the room, sitting down beside Blaine and looking at him. “Are you crying at those Housewives again?”

“No,” Blaine says.

“So, things didn’t go well with Kurt?” Sam asks.

“It was good,” Blaine says. “We had dinner and we sang and we danced and now I am just ridiculously turned on and I hate myself.”

Sam’s eyes go down to the cushion in Blaine’s lap and then back up to his face. “Ohhh.” He clicks his fingers and points at Blaine. “Elastic band!”

“Excuse me?” Blaine asks.

“Remember in New York, when me and Mercedes were trying to save ourselves until marriage?” Sam says. “Well, save her until marriage.”

“Yeah,” Blaine says.

“When I needed a distraction from all those… pent up feelings,” Sam says, gesturing carelessly to his crotch. “I snapped an elastic band on my wrist. It helped pull attention.”

“I’m already good enough at hurting myself, thanks,” Blaine says.

“Well, you could always just…” he nods towards Blaine’s bedroom, “…take care of it.”

“I’m not sure I’m supposed to do that,” Blaine says. “I feel like I shouldn’t do that.”

“Is that a rule?” Sam asks. “Or a step or something?”

“It’s not really black and white,” Blaine says. “I don’t have big issues with masturbation or porn. Though I did use it when I was feeling shitty about myself. And jerking off is intrinsically linked to fantasy which is something that I definitely shouldn’t be messing around with.”

Sam nods slowly. “Cold shower?”

Blaine sighs, leaning his head down on the back of the couch. “Kurt asked me to go and visit him in New York. I really like him, Sam.”

“Well, you’re in luck, because in the 20 seconds I saw you guys today, I can tell you he is 100% into you too.”

Blaine makes a frustrated noise, pressing his face into the couch cushions.

“That’s not good?” Sam asks.

“I can’t have him,” Blaine says into the cushions before lifting his head. “I’m trying to get better. I’m trying to figure out the healthy way to do this. I’m not screwing it up with him again. If I ever get back with Kurt, it’s going to be forever. And I can’t promise him that right now. I can’t promise myself that. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Yeah, let me tell you a secret,” Sam says. “None of us do. I, for one, am going to have to teach a bunch of high schoolers tomorrow with a hangover.”

Blaine smiles. He wants Kurt so badly. And that’s when it hits him. This isn’t the sickening itch that used to drive him to the street or Scandals or the karaoke bar. This is warm and squirmy in a good way and breathless and yearning. This isn’t his sickness, not in the way he recognises it anyway. It’s not the bile. It’s something else.

“I’m going to go to bed,” Blaine says.

“Yeah, that sounds like a plan,” Sam agrees.

When he gets back to his bedroom, Blaine grabs his phone from his nightstand and taps out a message to Kurt. _I want to come to New York._ He knows that Kurt won’t get it until he lands, but Blaine wants it to be there waiting for him. He wants Kurt to know that he’s on his mind and a priority. He still can’t tell the difference between love and lust, but with Kurt it’s different than anything else. That’s worth exploring, isn’t it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blaine sings [Roar by Katy Perry](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CevxZvSJLk8t)  
> Blaine and Kurt sing [Can't Stop The Feeling by Justin Timberlake](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ru0K8uYEZWw)


	4. Chapter 4

New York feels just like it did when Blaine was 18, scary and exciting and full of possibilities. Navigating the city thankfully comes back to him easily though, taking the AirTrain and the subway to the cheap hotel he’ll be staying at. Kurt had insisted several times that Blaine could just stay with him, but Blaine isn’t sure that’s a great idea right now. The knowledge that he can retreat if need be feels safer. He still doesn’t quite know what he’s getting himself into here.

Kurt asks Blaine to meet him at work. He insists that he’s fully taking a couple of days off for Blaine’s visit, but seeing as Blaine isn’t getting in until lunchtime, he might as well get some things done at the office and delegate some jobs for his absence. Kurt loves delegating.

When Blaine arrives, he isn’t sure he’s in the right place. It’s not the sleek design studio he was expecting. When he gets inside the building, he can tell that it’s a creative space though. He sees artists and graphic designers in the old, brick building. It reminds Blaine of the apartment in Bushwick. He can see why Kurt would feel at home here.

He checks the building directory and then jogs up a set of stairs, taking him to a door that reads _Kourage._ He smiles to himself and pushes it open, finding himself in a small reception area with a desk and a couple of chairs.

“Can I help you?” the receptionist asks.

“Hi, yeah, I’m here to see Kurt Hummel,” Blaine says. “I’m Blaine Anderson, he’s expecting me.”

“He certainly is,” she says, getting to her feet. “Right this way.”

She slides back a door and suddenly they’re in an open space. There’s large work surfaces with people working on computers, people sketching, people sewing. There’s mannequins with half-made designs pinned to them and what looks to be a conference area. Skylights let in natural light and there are curtain tracks so that different areas can be sectioned off as needed. Blaine can’t help but smile.

“Blaine!”

He turns at the sound of Kurt’s voice as Kurt abandons the fabric samples he was looking at and rushes over to greet him, pulling Blaine into a tight hug.

“It is so good to see you, thank you for coming,” Kurt says.

“Yeah, thanks for inviting me,” Blaine says as they pull away. “Kurt, this place is amazing.”

“I know,” Kurt says, radiating with pride. “This is where all the magic happens. I mean, now that we’re in department stores, we can’t make everything in house anymore, we have to outsource to mass produce, but I want to make it clear we have very ethical practices.”

“I wouldn’t doubt that,” Blaine assures him.

“But, yeah, every design, every prototype, it all comes from here,” Kurt says.

“It’s great,” Blaine says. “And it’s very you. It has a lot of heart.”

Kurt smiles at him. “Come on.”

He leads Blaine through the space to some doors at the back, opening one with a shiny plaque that reads _Kurt Hummel._

“Fancy,” Blaine remarks.

Inside is Kurt’s private office, with a desk and a couch and a couple of mannequins with slightly more completed designs on them.

“I just need to grab my stuff,” Kurt says, sorting through files and designs that lay open on his desk.

“Take your time,” Blaine says.

There’s photos on the wall opposite Kurt’s desk, right where he’ll see them when he looks up. Blaine recognises a lot of the people. There’s Rachel and Jesse, Brittany and Santana, Mercedes, Artie and Kitty. There’s Burt and Carole and even Finn. But Blaine isn’t there. Of course he’s not, he wasn’t a part of Kurt’s life when he created this amazing empire. Even when they were ‘together’, when Blaine was working at the bar and fucking people in the alley behind it, Blaine never came to visit him here. He never showed an interest. He never did any of those things that would have strengthened their relationship or entwined them in each other’s lives. But he’s doing them now.

“Do you know why I called my label _Kourage_?” Kurt asks, standing beside him.

“Because you’re the bravest person I’ve ever met?” Blaine asks.

“No,” Kurt says. “But thank you.” He turns to look at Blaine. “Do you really not know?”

Blaine frowns at him. “Should I?”

Kurt snorts a laugh. “Remember when I was spying at Dalton and we had our first ever heart to heart?”

“Of course,” Blaine says.

“You told me to stand up to my bully,” Kurt says. “And then, the next day, so that I didn’t back out, you sent me a text message.”

Blaine’s stomach flips over at the realisation. “Courage.”

“Yeah,” Kurt agrees. “So maybe you’re not up here,” he says, gesturing to the photographs. “But you’re in every piece I’ve ever made.”

Blaine feels like he can’t breathe. Kurt is looking at him so earnestly and openly and Blaine’s eyes are clouding with tears.

“Yeah, pretty intense,” Kurt says, turning away and grabbing his jacket. “It’s either romantic as hell or I sound like a serial killer, I’m not sure which.” He turns back to Blaine. “Anyway, do you want to go get lunch?”

Blaine just keeps staring at him. “We weren’t even together,” he says. “We hadn’t seen each other in over a year.”

“I freaked you out,” Kurt says flatly. “I sound like a serial killer. Noted. Any chance we can sweep it under the rug?”

“Kurt,” Blaine says. “I don’t… I can’t…” A tear spills down his cheek and he presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Shit, I didn’t think I was going to cry this early in the trip.”

“But you thought you were going to cry?” Kurt asks, sounding bemused.

Blaine laughs, dropping his arms down to his sides with a shrug. “It’s kind of a given with me nowadays.”

Kurt smiles at him, stepping closer. “Look, you gave me something back then. You’re one of the reasons I’m still alive. That doesn’t change just because we’re not in each other’s lives anymore.”

“We’re not?” Blaine asks.

“We weren’t,” Kurt corrects. “But when I started all this, I was terrified. So I thought back to a time that I overcame terrified. And that was it.”

Blaine nods. That makes sense. He was a good guy once. He solved problems instead of causing them. That’s a reminder he really needed right now.

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” Kurt says.

They go to Blaine’s favourite Manhattan diner for lunch and Blaine gets the impression that Kurt is trying to make Blaine fall in love with New York again. It’s kind of like being courted. Blaine really needs to not be thinking things like that right now though. He’s in a ridiculously romantic headspace right now though and there’s no way he can just shake off the fact that Kurt apparently named his greatest achievement after Blaine.

They spend most of the afternoon walking around Central Park, chatting and enjoying the warmer weather. Blaine feels like a tourist, but they never did that many touristy things when they lived here. They were real New Yorkers, or trying to be at least. It felt important at the time. They wanted an authentic experience. But they’re not those kids who felt the need to prove themselves anymore. Kurt has his place in the world, and Blaine might still be looking, but he knows now he’s not going to find it inside someone else’s cookie cutter. So when Kurt asks if he wants to go to the top of the Empire State Building, Blaine is definitely on board.

“We’re going on the town tonight,” Kurt informs him once they’re back at street level. “I made restaurant reservations and then I have a plan.”

“Oh, yeah?” Blaine asks, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Yes,” Kurt says decisively. “So I am going to go back to my apartment and get rid of this work stuff, and you could go to the hotel and get changed if you want.”

“Is there a dress code?” Blaine asks.

Kurt’s eyes scan him up and down, his brightly coloured chinos, his sweater, his jacket, pursing his lips together. “No. But you could put a shirt on if you had one. And a bowtie?” That last part sounds like a request.

“I can do that,” Blaine says.

“Great,” Kurt says brightly. “I’ll meet you in the hotel lobby. I’ll text you when I get there.”

Blaine makes his way back to the hotel, changing his sweater for a striped shirt and adding a polka dot bowtie. He goes through to the bathroom to look at himself in the mirror, checking his hair. He has that fluttery feeling like he’s going on a date. He tries to keep his expectations in check. That’s not what he and Kurt are. Nor is it something he should even be hoping for. He reminds himself how miserable he was the night after they sang together back in Lima. He needs to remember that feeling. He needs to remember that he’s not there yet. He still has work to do.

Kurt takes him to an amazing restaurant in Midtown and they share a bottle of wine and maybe get a tiny bit tipsy. Or maybe they’re just lightheaded with how much they make each other laugh. When they step back out into the street at the end of the meal, Kurt links his arm through Blaine’s, hailing a cab.

“Where are we going?” Blaine asks as they climb into the back.

“You’ll see,” Kurt says.

Blaine insists on being the one to pay for the taxi seeing as Kurt bought dinner once again, so he doesn’t notice where they are right away. He climbs out after Kurt and finds himself pulled towards a familiar building.

“Callbacks?” Blaine asks incredulously. “No, come on, I don’t want to go here.”

“Yes you do,” Kurt insists. “You love to sing.”

“I’m not singing here,” Blaine says.

“Why not?” Kurt asks.

“Because it’s full of NYADA students and they’re all insanely talented and more than a little bit judgemental,” Blaine says.

“Yeah, and you were one of them,” Kurt says. “So let’s show them how it’s done.” He grabs Blaine’s arm, pulling him inside.

Blaine feels exactly like he did the first time Kurt brought him here. All he’d wanted was to spend some time alone with Kurt, but instead he’d been dragged out with all these people who were older and so much more impressive than him. He’d never felt so pathetically like a high schooler. He just wanted Kurt. He wanted to hold him and love him. He wanted to somehow make it up to him, to prove himself worthy, but he could barely make it through _Teenage Dream_ and by the way Kurt had been looking at him, he knew it was already over.

That guilt and shame still cling to him as Kurt leads him through the bar. Is he still that person? Is he going to make those same mistakes all over again? He can’t stand to be the reason Kurt ever looks like that again.

Kurt goes to the performance area and talks to the piano player briefly. Blaine stands at the side, ready to watch what is undoubtedly going to be amazing, but then Kurt picks up two microphones. Shit. He walks over to Blaine, brimming with smug confidence as he holds one out to him.

“Don’t you dare argue,” he says, a playful look in his eye.

Blaine sighs and takes the microphone and steps out into the performance area with him. He leans in close. “What are we singing?”

Kurt just gives him this look, a look that’s maybe teasing or flirting or adoring. And then he starts to sing.

_Made a wrong turn, once or twice_  
_Dug my way out, blood and fire_

Blaine’s breath catches in his throat. This isn’t just a song. This is _their_ song.

_Bad decisions, that's alright_  
_Welcome to my silly life_

Blaine just stares at him, wide-eyed, as Kurt sings to him like there’s no one else in the room. His head is racing, he has no idea what this means. Is it a declaration of love? A proposition? A trip down memory lane that means absolutely nothing? They sang this song to Santana when she was going through a rough time, learning to accept who she was and show it to the world. It’s not a million miles away from what Blaine is going through now. Maybe Kurt is just showing support.

_Look, I'm still around_

Blaine has never missed a musical cue in his life, so he lifts the microphone up to his mouth, joining in.

_Pretty, pretty please, don't you ever ever feel_  
_Like you're less than, less than perfect_

Blaine feels the words streaming straight from his heart, not just because of what they used to mean, but because of how he feels now. This is how he sees Kurt. And maybe that’s a fantasy, but in the moment, he simply can’t shake how it feels like truth.

_Pretty pretty please, if you ever, ever feel like you're nothing_  
_You are perfect to me!_

The applause at the end of the song isn’t as loud as Blaine’s thundering heart. Kurt turns and takes a dramatic bow before gesturing towards Blaine. He smiles, offering a modest little bow of his own before they’re handing the microphones off and heading for the bar.

“I told you,” Kurt says, gesturing for the bartender.

“Interesting song choice,” Blaine says, trying to keep his voice level.

“I love that song,” Kurt says.

Blaine nods. “Me too.”

He wonders if they have the same subtext behind their words.

Kurt orders a drink for himself and then turns to Blaine. “What do you want?”

“Uh…” Blaine scans the bottles behind the bar. He’s already kind of light-headed. And completely overwhelmed. He’s not sure sobering up is something he can handle right now though. “Vodka lime soda, please.”

They get their drinks and find a table at the back of the room. They can’t see the performance area from here, but they can hear it. Blaine looks around and feels ancient.

“There’s a lot of big dreams in this room,” he says.

“And even bigger egos,” Kurt says. “How many do you think are going to make it?”

Blaine sighs. “One? There’s not many Rachel Berrys in the world.” He looks at Kurt. “I’m glad you found your way.”

“Because I wasn’t good enough for this?” Kurt asks, raising an eyebrow at him.

“No,” Blaine says firmly. “You’re good enough. And you always gave Rachel a run for her money.”

“If we were in a position to play the same parts, we never would have been friends,” Kurt says.

“Right,” Blaine says. “But that doesn’t matter because you found your own path. And you’re great at it. And you love it. I’m so proud of you.”

“Maybe I never made it to Broadway, but I feel like I’d kind of stopped wanting that by my third year anyway,” Kurt admits. “I didn’t really notice it happening. I just got so caught up in designing and spending time with Isabelle. I like creating things. I don’t need the spotlight.” He looks at Blaine, serious. “But I’m still just as good a singer as Rachel.”

“Absolutely,” Blaine agrees without missing a beat.

“I’m so grateful I got to go to NYADA though, and that I saw it through,” Kurt says. “It taught me a lot about confidence and how to carry myself. It taught me who I was. And I had to do it all alone after you losers abandoned me.”

Blaine winces. “Kurt, I got cut,” he says. “I didn’t want to leave.”

Kurt looks at him like he’s about to say something but then he closes his mouth, bringing his drink up to his lips instead.

“What?” Blaine asks.

Kurt shrugs, putting his drink back down. “It’s just… you talk about self-sabotage a lot,” he says carefully. “You don’t think maybe that’s what it was? Like you didn’t deserve it anymore?”

Blaine frowns. He barely remembers NYADA after Kurt broke up with him. Everything was a blur of pain and hopelessness. He deserved to be cut. But did he start believing that before or after it actually happened?

“I’m sorry, it’s really not my place,” Kurt says.

“No, it’s fine,” Blaine dismisses. “You know me better than anyone.”

“I just want to see you back on your feet,” Kurt says. “You and Rachel as Tony and Maria, that’s something Broadway deserves to see.”

Blaine rolls his eyes. “Look, I have no intention of working at your dad’s garage forever, but Broadway is not on the cards,” he says. “Right now, I’m happy in Lima with my secure little job and dependable roommate and my meetings. That’s what’s in store for Blaine Anderson in the near future.”

“Hey, you’re still young,” Kurt says. “You have plenty of time.”

Blaine sighs, trying not to get frustrated. “I can’t pin my hopes on fantasies right now, Kurt. I can’t do it. I need to get my feet on the ground.”

“You seem pretty grounded to me,” Kurt says.

Blaine smiles. “Let’s just call me a work in progress.”

Kurt lifts his eyebrows. “I’d like you to show me a person who isn’t.”

A couple of drinks later they leave the bar, hesitating on the street.

“Do you want to come to mine for a bit?” Kurt offers.

“I think maybe I should go back to my hotel,” Blaine says. “That’s why I got it.”

Kurt nods. “It’s important to set boundaries.”

Blaine gives him a questioning look. It feels like an incredibly loaded remark.

Kurt just looks off down the street. “Do you want to share a cab?”

“I’m not really going the same way as you,” Blaine says. “I’m going to take the subway. I weirdly kind of miss it.”

“I’ll see you for breakfast?” Kurt asks.

“Yeah,” Blaine says.

They hesitate for a moment and then share an awkward hug before going their separate ways.

The whole subway system makes Blaine feel at home. Over the years he learnt the quickest way to get just about anywhere. So he knows he could get back to his hotel with only one change at this time of night. He’s not sure he wants to be alone in a room with nothing but a bed right now though.

He can’t process everything that’s happened today. He doesn’t think he wants to. Nothing about it felt platonic and it seems so unfair for Kurt to do that to him. He knows how hard Blaine is working to put himself back together, about his meetings and his crutches and how goddamn hard it is to earn those stupid plastic chips. He wants to cry. He wants to punch a wall. Why is Kurt treating this like it’s something they can have? It’s cruel.

So Blaine doesn’t go back to his hotel. He rides the subway and he walks the streets and he pretends to be surprised when he sees where he’s ended up, but in his heart he knew he was coming here all along. He knew it probably before he even got on that plane.

He walks slowly down the familiar sidewalk, hands shoved in his jacket pockets. He doesn’t recognise any of the boys who are out here now, leaning down to car windows. Blaine isn’t really dressed for it, but he knows there’s a certain kind of person who likes that preppy look. They’d probably pay extra for it. It would be so easy and then he wouldn’t have to think. He wouldn’t have to worry about what the fuck this thing is with he and Kurt because it will all go down in flames.

He closes his eyes, the self-loathing creeping over his body like a second skin. He’s disgusting. He’s sub-human. There’s not a decent bone in his body. Kurt is so good to him, so supportive. He’s never hurt Blaine on purpose. Blaine hates himself for wanting to give up every shred of dignity he’s fought for over the past few months, and take Kurt down with him.

He hears a car pull up to the curb but he doesn’t look. Instead, he turns his back, reaching for his phone.

“You make terrible decisions at this time of night,” Aiden says when he answers the call, his voice light and calm. “Have you considered going to bed earlier?”

“You might be onto something,” Blaine says.

“We all have patterns,” Aiden says. “What’s going on?”

“I’m just reliving one of my worst ones,” Blaine says. “I’m in New York. I’m on the street where I used to… The street I worked when I was a hooker.”

Aiden makes a noise of acknowledgement. It’s non-judgemental but it somehow conveys the seriousness perfectly. “Have you done anything yet?”

“No,” Blaine says.

“Well we can work with that,” Aiden says. “What are you doing there?”

“I spent the day with Kurt,” Blaine says. “And everything has been so romantic and we sang our song together and I have no idea how to handle this. I don’t know what he’s doing.”

“Sounds like he’s dating you,” Aiden says. “And you need to let him know if that’s alright or not.”

“Of course that’s not alright,” Blaine says. “In what world would that alright?”

“Yeah, well, grown-ups use their words, Blaine, so you have to tell him that,” Aiden says. “And sometimes these conversations suck. A lot of the time they’re not what people want to hear. Some of them will stick by you regardless. Some of them won’t. And it’s the hardest thing in the world to be honest despite that fact, because you never know how they’re going to react. But this is your addiction, your recovery, your treatment. You need to draw the lines in the sand. Everyone does better when you have the boundaries you need, even if they decide they don’t want to be around for it.”

Blaine frowns. Boundaries. That’s what Kurt was talking about. Has he been reading about this?

“So,” Aiden says. “How about you get the hell out of there?”

“Yeah,” Blaine says distractedly. He shakes his head, walking towards the subway. “Thanks.”

“You want to talk through this Kurt thing?” Aiden asks. “Figure out what you want to say to him?”

“No,” Blaine responds. “I think I need to let it sit.” He finds himself standing outside the subway entrance, watching cars go by. He chews on his lip. “I want to stay here,” he admits.

“You want to get into some strangers car and sell your body?” Aiden asks bluntly.

“Yeah,” Blaine says, his voice cracking.

“And how would it make you feel if you did that?” Aiden asks.

“Good for a bit,” Blaine says. “It would feel like home.”

“That’s not home,” Aiden says. “If it was home, you wouldn’t have left.”

“I was good at it,” Blaine says. “It’s about the only thing I’ve truly succeeded at in my life.”

“What a story to tell the grandkids,” Aiden says dryly.

Blaine gives a humourless laugh. “People like me don’t get a love story.”

“What about Kurt?” Aiden asks.

Blaine squeezes his eyes shut, clenching his jaw. He tries desperately to stop the tears from coming. “I’m so bad for him.”

“If you stay there and get into a car, then yeah, you would be very bad for him,” Aiden agrees. “But you have a choice, Blaine. You can walk away. You can choose to do something that will keep you in the running instead. If he still wants to sing your song with you, I don’t think it’s quite over with you guys yet.”

Blaine lets out a sob. Aiden is just as bad as Kurt. Why are they mocking him with this hope?

“Walk away, Blaine,” Aiden says. “Keep working on it. Keep working on you. That’s how it gets better. And all you can do is hope that the right people are still around you when it does.”

Blaine nods. “I can’t go back to the hotel,” he says. “Not with all these thoughts.”

“Go sing a song,” Aiden says. “That always helps you.”

“I already sang a song tonight,” Blaine says.

“Blaine, there are millions of songs,” Aiden says. “You’re never going to run out.”

There’s something so hopeful about that statement. “Okay,” Blaine says, finally stepping down into the subway.

He finds a karaoke bar in a decent neighbourhood not too far from his hotel and he sings his heart out to cheesy pop songs. He ends up doing duets with strangers and somehow becomes the main attraction. It’s fun. It’s exhilarating. By the time he gets back to the hotel he’s exhausted, taking a quick shower before falling into bed, asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow.

He’s only had a couple of hours sleep when he gets up to meet Kurt for breakfast. He puts on a casual outfit, his brain too fried to try and think about style. It’s just breakfast and it’s pretty close to the hotel so he can always go and get changed if Kurt has something spectacular planned. Blaine kind of hopes that he doesn’t though.

Kurt is already seated when Blaine gets there, tapping away on an iPad, a cup of coffee in front of him. Blaine is slammed with guilt. _Why am I always the first one to arrive?_

“Hi,” he says, shrugging off his jacket.

Kurt looks up at him. “Hey,” he says brightly, no hint of irritation in his demeaner. He tilts his head. “You look rough.”

Blaine gives him a forlorn look as he takes a seat, turning his coffee cup over. A server comes to fill it. “Thank you,” he says earnestly, lifting it to take a grateful sip. It’s too hot but he doesn’t even care. “I’m so sorry I’m late.”

“You’re not,” Kurt says, slipping his iPad into his bag.

Blaine considers him. “You look pretty settled in. Like you were waiting a while.”

“Oh, no, I had some emails I needed to reply to and if I started on them at home I knew I’d get caught up,” Kurt says. “So I figured I’d get here early, grab a coffee, that way I couldn’t lose track of time.”

“Oh,” Blaine says, frowning slightly. He takes another sip of his coffee.

Kurt watches him for a moment. “You know, rough as you look, you maybe sound worse,” he says. Blaine clears his throat and Kurt raises an eyebrow at him. “Did we drink that much?”

“I ended up at this karaoke bar,” Blaine admits. “Kind of sang the night away.”

“You could have invited me,” Kurt says, looking amused.

Blaine swallows uncomfortably. “I was having a moment. You wouldn’t have wanted to be there.”

Kurt considers him. “A moment?”

“My sponsor got me through it,” Blaine dismisses. “It’s fine, don’t worry. I’m still on track for my three month chip.”

Kurt nods, eyes falling down. “Do you mind if I ask you something?”

“Go ahead,” Blaine says.

Kurt takes a breath, looking up at Blaine with an uncertainty that Blaine hasn’t seen from him in a long time. “Are you just like… celibate forever now?” he asks. “I mean, alcoholics aren’t supposed to touch alcohol again, right? So how does that work?”

Blaine shrugs. “It’s about finding your own centre,” he says. “For me, battling the ideation and the unrealistic expectations and not putting the responsibility of my emotional wellbeing onto other people, those are the biggest hurdles. The sex is just a way to feel loved and wanted. I can have all the pieces if I can figure out how to put it together in the right way.”

“Huh,” Kurt says, staring down at the table.

“It’s a lot,” Blaine agrees.

“I want to learn about it,” Kurt says.

Blaine freezes. He has no idea if that means what he thinks it means. He remembers his conversation with Aiden last night. He needs to set boundaries and be transparent with Kurt. This is a way to do that, isn’t it? Let Kurt decide for himself whether he wants to be a part of this mess. And even if all he does is close that chapter on Kurt’s life for him, it would be worth it for Blaine. It’s the least he owes him.

“You could always come to a meeting with me if you wanted,” Blaine says. “Whenever you’re back in Lima.”

Kurt smiles at him. “I’d like that. Thank you.”

It’s not even two weeks before Kurt is back in Lima again, and Blaine feels like he must have made the trip just to see him, to be able to attend his meeting. Kurt is never back home this frequently. Even Burt is surprised. Blaine tries desperately not to get his hopes up because he still doesn’t know if it’s a good idea to want this.

He meets Kurt at the Lima Bean before the meeting and it feels almost natural to hug him now, even if it makes his heart beat a little bit faster every time. Who is he kidding? Hugging Kurt always did that to him.

“I always grab a takeaway coffee before I go,” Blaine says as they get in the queue. “The stuff they have there is terrible.”

“Who would have thought a free meeting in a church basement wouldn’t have gourmet coffee,” Kurt says dryly.

Blaine gives him a look, even though he can’t help but smile. “Trust me, I’m doing you a favour.”

“You are,” Kurt says earnestly.

Blaine looks at him, trying not to let himself get all lovestruck. But Kurt is here for him. For this.

The barista calls him up and Blaine blinks the moment away, stepping up and ordering their coffees.

They head out to the parking lot, both of them getting into Blaine’s car. Blaine takes a sip of his coffee before putting it in the cupholder, sliding his key into the ignition. He doesn’t turn it though, instead he takes a breath, turning to face Kurt.

“Are you nervous?”

“No,” Kurt says, giving him an amused look. “But I think you are.”

Blaine shakes his head. “It can just get pretty heavy in there sometimes,” he says. “I mean, I know it’s not like meth addiction or anything, but it is addiction and addiction is ugly in so many ways and it can make you do awful things. So if you need to bow out or take a breather or whatever, it’s cool. I’ll give you my keys so you can wait in the car if you want. Or maybe you should follow me in your car and then you can just go if you need to go.”

“Blaine,” Kurt says firmly, reaching out and placing a hand on Blaine’s arm. “I want to do this.” He licks his lips, putting his own drink in the cup holder. “My dad doesn’t understand what it’s like to be gay.”

Blaine frowns at him, wondering if he just blacked out for a huge chunk of the conversation.

“He can’t know what it feels like to have people hate you just because of who you love,” Kurt says. “Or what it’s like to have people want to hurt you because of it. He can never experience what it’s like to walk through the world as a gay man. And I’m a lucky gay man, I’m a white, wealthy gay man who lives in New York City. But there’s still a lot of reasons that it sucks.”

“Yeah, same, but I don’t understand why we’re talking about this,” Blaine says.

“Because my dad educated himself,” Kurt says. “He joined a PFLAG group and he talked to other parents and he talked to me. And more importantly, he listened. He didn’t do all that so that he could understand what it’s like for me, because he can’t. He did it so that he could be an ally. So he could stand up for me and be there for me. So he could support me.” He squeezes Blaine’s arm where his hand is still resting on it. “I want to be your ally. So I’m going to listen.”

Blaine nods slowly, trying to take it in. “Okay,” he says quietly. It’s completely inadequate but Kurt smiles at him, giving one last squeeze of Blaine’s arm before he pulls away.

When they get to the meeting, Blaine can’t help but see it through Kurt’s eyes. Or maybe it’s just his own inner critic. It looks so grim. He wordlessly leads Kurt over to the circle where a few people have started to sit down, others still milling around the snack table.

Across the room, Aiden catches Blaine’s eye, raising an eyebrow at him as he nods towards Kurt. Blaine gives him a warning look and Aiden smiles knowingly. Blaine rolls his eyes.

“Is the whole meeting going to be telepathic?” Kurt asks. “If that’s the case, I might not be able to keep up.”

Blaine looks at him. “What?”

Kurt looks to Aiden.

“Oh, that’s Aiden, he’s my sponsor,” Blaine says. “He’s a good guy who knows me way too well. And I mentioned to him that you were going to come to the meeting today.”

Kurt nods.

“I don’t want this to be weird for you,” Blaine says. “I talk about you more to Aiden than anyone else.”

“Blaine, it’s fine,” Kurt says. “You’d be a really big part of my story too.”

Blaine smiles, but he knows it doesn’t meet his eyes. He guesses the words are supposed to be comforting, but he hates the thought that he screwed up Kurt’s life almost as much as he screwed up his own.

The meeting starts and Blaine wraps his arms around himself protectively. He listens and he watches Kurt out of the corner of his eye. Kurt’s body language is open and relaxed as he sips his coffee and looks engaged. He’s respectful though. He doesn’t stare or gape. He’s doing far better than Blaine is.

Blaine shifts in his chair, looking directly at Kurt. Kurt smiles at him, small and so reassuring. Blaine hugs himself tighter, leaning in.

“Do you mind if I talk about you?” he whispers.

“Do you want me to leave?” Kurt asks, clearly sensing his discomfort.

Blaine shakes his head. If Kurt is listening, Blaine wants to speak.

“Talk about whatever you need to,” Kurt assures him.

It’s halfway through the meeting before Blaine gets up the guts to deliberately catch Robert’s eye. He hasn’t joined in with any of the discussions tonight and he feels stupid and small and selfish, but he’s learnt this is a place where it’s okay to be all of those things once in a while. It lessens the guilt a tiny bit. Robert gestures for him to speak.

“Hi,” Blaine starts. “Blaine,” he says, gesturing to himself. There are certain faces that fade in and out of the group over time, whether through disinterest or relapse or something else.

“Hi Blaine,” the group responds.

“Still weird,” Blaine mutters. “Okay, uh, I brought someone with me today. Someone from my life.” He looks at Kurt who gives him an encouraging look. “This is Kurt. He’s my… Kurt. My ex. Love of my life, whatever. Friend, maybe? I don’t know, I met him when I was 16 and he was my first… everything. I was a sweet little virgin back then. He was a sweeter virgin. He didn’t lead me astray or anything. That’s all on me.”

He takes a breath and tries to focus. He’s never been this nervous before.

“So, yeah, we were each other’s firsts,” Blaine says, staring at the floor. It sounds so adorable. That’s the opposite of how Blaine feels now. “Something changed in me. I didn’t know anything could feel like that. I’m not talking about the sex, the physical stuff. I mean the intimacy and the vulnerability and the expression of all those feelings that you can’t put into words because they’d never make sense. But they’re right there on the surface when you’re together like that. And I always felt like I lost a part of myself that night. Not in a bad way. But like part of me belonged to him and I was never whole when he wasn’t there. And at the time that felt romantic as hell, but now I can see that it was co-dependency and insecurities and the fact that I didn’t really know who I was. I acted so confident and sure of myself, but I had no idea what I was doing or where I was heading. I was his. And that was it. That made sense. Sometimes nothing else did.”

He closes his eyes for a moment, trying to compose himself. He’s not going to break down. He’s going to get this out. Drain the poison.

“I made Kurt my identity,” he says. “And I felt like I should be his. And when I wasn’t, I didn’t know how to handle that. When he had something in his life that was good, that wasn’t about me, it felt like a rejection because how could anything be more important than me? And I know that that sounds narcissistic to the extreme, but it’s not. It’s kind of the opposite. Sometimes I felt like I didn’t exist when he wasn’t looking at me and that terrified me.”

He sighs, dread sitting heavy in his stomach.

“I cheated on him,” he says, his voice hollow. “When he went away to college. Because he wasn’t looking at me. So maybe I wasn’t even real. I just needed someone to look at me and touch me and make me feel something so that I wasn’t a ghost. And this sounds so ridiculous and melodramatic. But I tied myself to Kurt. I don’t mean I made a commitment, I tied my existence to him. And then I blamed him for making me feel that way. I blamed him for my co-dependency when all he did was love me. You’re supposed to be able to let someone love without expectation. The love is the reward. And nobody owes you anything just because you fall for them.”

He shakes his head, screwing his face up to try and stop himself crying.

“I hate that person,” he says. “I hate that person that took a good thing and tore it into tiny pieces. I hate him because he ruined my life. He sabotaged everything I had. But that’s me. And I don’t know if that’s still me. I don’t know how to be intimate with someone without searching for that part of myself. I don’t know how to love someone without losing myself. I’m either head over heels in a fantasy world or I reduce everything to just base instincts and fucking and sensation that means absolutely nothing. I don’t know how to find the truth anymore. I feel like I had it once. But maybe… maybe that was just a fantasy too. Maybe I’m not capable of it.”

His voice finally gives and he leans forward, bracing his elbows on his knees and trying not to sob out loud. There’s silence for a few moments and then Kurt’s hand lands on his shoulder, solid and true.

“You are.”

His voice is so certain and Blaine’s not even sure in that moment what the words are referring to, but somehow he believes them.

“Here’s the thing though,” Aiden says. “You know that about yourself. You worked all that out. That’s the hard part. Now you know what not to do. That narrows your options down to at least choices better than the ones you already made.”

Blaine can feel the anger bubbling up inside him. He gives a sharp little shake of his head. “You have no idea how much I want to sabotage my recovery every day,” he says. “And it feels like an act of violence against myself. Sex feels like an act of violence. And I want to go out and do it every day.”

“But you don’t,” Aiden says matter-of-factly.

Blaine considers that for a moment. “I don’t,” he agrees.

“So you’re winning.”

Blaine snorts a laugh, but he sits back in his chair, wiping at his damp eyes. Kurt’s hand falls away from him as he moves, and he tries not to miss it.

The discussion moves on and Blaine tunes it all out, even though it makes him feel like a terrible person. He’s emotionally exhausted though and the weariness seeps deep into his body. He just wants to curl up in bed. He just wants to be done with this day so that he can get to that new one that addicts are always so optimistic about. He wonders if it will ever stop feeling this draining.

At the end of the meeting, Robert reaches for the box under his chair, opening up the lid. “We have an anniversary today,” he says.

Blaine sits up taller, trying to look interested, because whoever it is deserves that much. This shit isn’t easy.

“Blaine,” Robert says, getting to his feet and holding up a green chip. “Three months.”

Blaine stares at him. He’s been so caught up with Kurt he hadn’t realised that was today. He gets shakily to his feet as the group starts to clap. It doesn’t feel real. “Thank you,” he says, taking it from Robert before giving him a hug.

“And tomorrow you get to get up and keep your winning streak going,” Robert says.

Blaine smiles, turning and high-fiving Aiden on his way back to his seat. He looks tentatively at Kurt, not sure what he might see, but there’s nothing but pride in those eyes.

“Well done,” he says, the words full of heart.

Blaine stares at his chip, barely noticing when the meeting breaks up and people start to go their separate ways. He sits there, trying to process everything, and Kurt just sits there silently beside him, a picture of patience.

“I didn’t even know this was today,” Blaine says.

“Seriously?” Kurt asks. “I did.”

Blaine looks at him, raising his eyebrows. “You did?”

“Why do you think I chose today to come to your meeting?” Kurt asks. “I wanted to congratulate you. And help you pick out an outfit to complement your new accessory. You have a green sweater that would go really nicely with that shade. And the green bowtie with the purple lions.”

Blaine looks at him, completely bemused. The words _I love you_ are right on the tip of his tongue but it’s the worst idea in the world to say them, especially now. “Thank you,” he says instead. It means practically the same thing.

Kurt nods. “Thank you for letting me come here,” he says. “And I’m sorry if I made it difficult for you.”

Blaine shakes his head. “It’s just difficult.”

“But Aiden’s right, your self-awareness if something else,” Kurt says. “Everything you said, it made sense of a lot of what happened between us. Not that I’m putting the blame on you, I was far from perfect and we were young and I don’t think either of us really understood how to untangle it all. But I’ve never been able to pull it apart like you did tonight.”

Blaine gives a sad little smile, turning the chip over in his hand. “I wish I had the slightest idea what to do with that information.”

“You’ll figure it out,” Kurt says. “I’m really proud of you. For being honest with yourself. You deserve nice things, Blaine Anderson. Go easy on yourself.”

Blaine feels his face soften. He slips his chip into his pocket, getting to his feet. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

He drives Kurt back to the Lima Bean where he left his car. He parks up, but Kurt doesn’t move. Blaine turns to look at him.

“I’m having a lot of emotions,” Kurt says in way of explanation.

Blaine nods. “You want to go get drunk?”

“What, and sing karaoke until we can’t talk?” Kurt teases. “I can’t, I have a flight back to New York first thing. Lunch meeting.”

“Those are the worst,” Blaine says, trying to hide his smirk. “Never enough eating _or_ talking.”

Kurt smiles. “I love your attention to detail.” He sighs, turning his body to face Blaine fully. “I don’t know what it’s fair to say to you.”

Blaine shrugs. “Just tell me the truth. It’s fine. I doubt you could bring up a terrible character flaw that I haven’t already thought of, but I’m open to suggestions.”

Kurt stares at him. “I was going to do the opposite of that actually.”

“Oh,” Blaine says, frowning. “What does that mean?”

Kurt’s gaze softens. “I never got over you.”

Blaine freezes, staring wide-eyed at Kurt, his mind a complete blank. He understands the words in theory, the implication, but it won’t come together in his head.

“Yeah, I shouldn’t have said that,” Kurt says, looking away. “I’m sorry. That’s really unfair. I just wanted to put it out there. You know, that whenever you were ready, and if that was even something you were interested in, then as far as I’m concerned, it’s a possibility. You and me. _We’re_ a possibility.”

Blaine just keeps staring at him. Half of him wants to grab Kurt and kiss him and drag him into the back seat with him. The other half kind of wants to open the car door, push Kurt out, and speed away. Tears cloud his eyes and he realises he’s not blinking. He’s not even breathing.

“Did I undo everything?” Kurt asks tentatively, his face so scared.

Blaine blinks, finally snapping himself out of it. “No. Thank you.” He pulls a face, not sure what kind of a response that was. “I, uh… that is some information I am going to process.”

“Yeah,” Kurt says. “That sounds like a plan.” He gives a nod and then opens the car door.

“Have a good flight,” Blaine says.

“Thank you,” Kurt says. “I’ll talk to you soon?”

Blaine nods, panic and elation battling for control inside him. He still manages a smile though and Kurt gives him a little wave, swinging the car door closed.

He sits there for a long time after Kurt drives away, not really thinking about anything, just letting it all resonate in his brain. He’s made it three months without fucking a random stranger. Kurt still wants him. These are simple facts. Truths of the universe. Blaine isn’t sure he has an opinion about either one of them right now.

He drives home, expecting to be tossing and turning all night, but he sleeps better than he has in a long time.

The next day, when he goes to get dressed, he spots the bowtie that Kurt mentioned last night. Green with purple lions. He smiles, pulling it off the hanger and rubbing his thumb over the embroidery. Kurt probably knows his wardrobe better than he does. He grabs a white polo shirt and then puts the bowtie on, fastening it snugly in place. He thinks about taking a photo but looks at his watch instead. He has some time.

His mom’s face breaks out into a smile when she opens the door, pulling him into a hug and placing a kiss on his cheek. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” she asks.

“I was wondering if I could get something from my room?” he says sheepishly. “I have to get to work actually. But we should do dinner one night.”

“We should,” she agrees. “Go ahead.” She gestures to the stairs and Blaine grins at her before jogging up them.

His old closet is still meticulously organised so he knows exactly where the sweater is. He should really move some of this stuff out. Since he left here at 18, he’s never found a permanent home though. He loves it with Sam and it’s exactly what he needs right now, but they both know it’s not forever. He’ll move on when he figures everything out and maybe the next place will stick. All his things feel safer here though for now. It still feels like where they belong, even though it makes him feel like he’s made zero progress since high school graduation.

He pulls on the sweater, going over to stand in front of the mirror. He adjusts his bowtie, checks his hair, and then takes his phone out of his pocket, along with his three month chip. Kurt was right. This sweater is the perfect shade of green to match it. He smiles to himself before lifting the phone up and taking a picture. He sends it to Kurt with the caption _OOTD._

He chews on his lip, pacing his room, waiting. Kurt has a lunch meeting, but it’s still midmorning. He’s probably not in there yet. But he could be preparing. Or catching up on whatever he missed by coming to visit Blaine. The phone vibrates in Blaine’s hand though and he stops moving, unable to keep the grin off his face when he sees it’s from Kurt.

_I knew that would be a good look on you._ And there’s a hearteyes emoji. Blaine sits down on the bed, contemplating what to respond, when another message comes through. _Are you in your childhood bedroom?_

Blaine smiles. _Observant. It’s where the sweater was._ He taps his fingers restlessly on the side of his phone, waiting for a response. It doesn’t take long.

_That’s dedication. I like it. You look great._

Blaine’s heart beats faster, his chest feeling like it could burst with excitement. Everything feels like it’s in a new context since Kurt admitted there was a chance. And Blaine still has a long, long way to go, he reminds himself. So far. A lot of it’s going to suck, and maybe he’ll fail. But he can enjoy this moment, can’t he? He taps out a response.

_Thank you. I hope your meeting goes well._

A new message comes through from Kurt. _I’ll return the favour later x_

Blaine frowns at it. What favour? The well wishes? He can’t make sense of it and he doesn’t want to extrapolate, so he just puts his phone into his pocket and heads to the garage.

“You’re a little overdressed today,” Burt comments the second Blaine walks in. “Kurt’s already flown back to New York, you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” Blaine says, giving him a questioning look.

“Mmmhmm,” Burt says. “Just looks like the kind of thing that he’d pick out.”

“He did pick it out,” Blaine says without thinking.

Burt narrows his eyes at him and then shakes his head, holding his hands up. “I don’t want to know. Just go get your coveralls on and get some work done.”

“Yes, sir,” Blaine responds cheerily.

That evening, he gets a text message from Kurt. _OOTD_ and a photograph of him wearing tailored pants, a patterned shirt and a neckerchief. He has one hand on his hip and he looks so effortlessly gorgeous. So that’s the favour he was returning.

Blaine stares at the picture. He remembers his conversation with Aiden in New York, about how he absolutely can’t start something with Kurt, but this feels like something. And Blaine doesn’t hate it. Guilt weighs heavy inside him. But Kurt came to his meeting. He’s going into this with eyes wide open.

Blaine still feels a huge responsibility not to hurt them both again though. If this falls apart, he knows it’s going to be his fault, and he’s not sure Kurt really understands just how destructive Blaine really is. If Blaine can keep being honest though, no lies or half-truths, maybe they can build something more stable this time.

There’s only one honest thought in his head right now. _You look gorgeous._ His heart beats hard in his chest, his cheeks flushing as he waits for a response. It seems to take forever. He starts to wonder if that was appropriate. Kurt only said it was a possibility. All bets were definitely off the table. And Blaine hadn’t proven himself nearly enough to earn that yet. When the response finally comes through from Kurt, he’s almost afraid to open it.

_Thank you. The feeling is always mutual. The way you pull off a bowtie is epically underrated, and I know fashion ;) I would call but I’m pretty beat, it’s been a day, I’m going to crash. Speak soon xxx_

Blaine feels himself flushing for an entirely different reason, biting down on his lip. Compliments from Kurt have always been his favourite thing in the world, chasing away any demons. Blaine can’t let himself rely on someone else to validate him, that’s too much pressure on another person leading to an unhealthy relationship, but he can still enjoy it. He can still let it make him feel good, so long as his feet are on the ground.

_Good night x_ he texts back. The kiss feels daring and exhilarating and dangerous. Like a drug. He feels sick, dialling Aiden’s number before he even waits to see if there’s a response from Kurt.

“Starting early tonight,” Aiden says. “What’s going on? Feeling the pressure of that three month chip? Or are we freaking out about Kurt?”

“Kurt,” Blaine says breathlessly.

“Hmm,” Aiden says. “Is he still around?”

“He went back to New York,” Blaine says. “But last night, after the meeting, we talked. He talked. He said that as far as he was concerned, us getting back together is a possibility.”

“Okay,” Aiden says, clearly waiting for more.

“And we’ve been texting today,” Blaine says.

“Who initiated that?” Aiden asks.

“Me,” Blaine admits. “But it got all flirty and now I’m having _feelings_ and I don’t know what to do about it.”

“Once again, this sounds like a conversation you should be having with Kurt,” Aiden points out.

“Help me,” Blaine says pathetically.

“So, Kurt put your relationship back on the table,” Aiden says. “And he left the ball in your court?”

“Yeah,” Blaine agrees.

“Today, when you text him, did it start out flirty?”

“No,” Blaine insists, but it feels like a lie. The subtext in that photo was screamingly obvious.

“Were you hoping for a certain response?” Aiden prompts.

Blaine sighs. “Yeah,” he admits, shame creeping over him.

“That sounds like a natural progression, Blaine,” Aiden says. “And feelings are okay. Also, as a reminder, that chip you got yesterday isn’t a celibacy chip. It’s not a forever alone chip. It’s about the effort you’re putting in to break old patterns.”

“I’m not ready to be in a relationship,” Blaine says. “But I don’t want to push Kurt away. I can’t lose him again.”

“That sounds like co-dependency and refusal to put your own needs first for fear of not being loved,” Aiden says. “Those are your buzzwords, aren’t they?”

“He’s the best thing that ever happened to me,” Blaine says hopelessly, choking up.

“No, he’s your high school sweetheart,” Aiden says. “And that doesn’t mean it can’t work out. It doesn’t mean you won’t end up together. But _you_ are important. Your worth is not tied to whether you have Kurt or not.”

Blaine sniffles. “I guess.”

“Three greatest achievements in your life, go,” Aiden says. “And they can’t be about boys.”

“Uh, okay, winning the National Show Choir competition,” Blaine says. “Getting into NYADA on my first try.”

He bites down on his lip. All he wants to say is that Kurt agreed to marry him. Whether it happened or not, in that moment, he won. But it can’t be about boys. He tries to take Kurt out of the equation, thinking back to before he met him. Those memories aren’t nearly as well worn as the ones with Kurt in them.

“Getting the lead vocalist position in the Warblers,” he says, remembering how that felt, how all of it felt. Dalton was such a safe place for him, after the tumultuous time in his old school. But he was his best self at Dalton. He was confident and together and popular just for being himself. It seems like a different person looking back at it now.

“All of those are about singing,” Aiden points out.

“Yeah, I guess they are,” Blaine says.

“You should lean into that,” Aiden says. “That’s _you_.”

Blaine sighs. “But what do I do about Kurt?”

“You let it play out,” Aiden says. “And you put boundaries in place when you need to. And if it’s causing you to backslide, you need space, Blaine. You need to step away for a while. I know that sounds impossible to you, but you need to get well, and if Kurt becomes a symptom, you’re going to fail.”

Blaine makes a pained noise. “This sucks so bad.”

“It does,” Aiden agrees. “But you’re doing great. Keep at it. A six month chip awaits.”

“What colour is it?” Blaine asks.

“I don’t remember,” Aiden says, sounding amused.

“They should do it in rainbow order,” Blaine says. “Or least do primary colours first.”

“You gays are so fucking stylish,” Aiden says fondly. “Crisis averted?”

“For now, I guess,” Blaine says. “I’m going to have to speak to Kurt though, aren’t I?”

“It’s going to get incredibly messy for you if you don’t,” Aiden says. “But if the guy is willing to fly in from New York to come to a meeting with you, I think he’s probably going to be pretty accommodating.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blaine and Kurt sing [Perfect by Pink](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K3GkSo3ujSY)


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning, Kurt sends Blaine another _OOTD_ text, wearing sinfully tight pants and cocking his hip. Blaine groans in frustration when he looks at it, a million needy, filthy thoughts running through his head. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before tapping out a response. _That’s a good look._ It’s supposed to sound friendly and non-committal, but it just comes across as suggestive.

_Why thank you. Do I get one in return?_

Blaine looks miserably at his screen. _It’s my day off. I’m about to head to the gym. Not the most stylish OOTD._ He puts his phone aside as though he can really just walk away from the conversation, but Kurt’s response comes through regardless.

_In that case I’m going to need before and after pictures ;)_

Blaine grips his phone too tightly, feeling under attack, but this is his doing, he reminds himself. He needs to set the boundaries to protect himself. It’s not Kurt’s responsibility to read Blaine’s mind or to take care of his emotional wellbeing. Blaine has to do that for himself. _Can we talk later?_ As soon as he presses send, he can already feel the rejection pulsing through him. If he pushes Kurt away then Kurt is going to go, and after everything Blaine’s shown him lately, he’s not going to come back.

_Sure. I don’t have anything on this afternoon. Talk then?_

Blaine sends back a confirmation and then goes to the gym, boxing out all of his frustration at himself and the situation and his awful, awful timing. It helps a little. At the very least it tires his body out, the ache in his muscles not a substitute for being thrown around and fucked hard and dirty, but it’s at least physical. It helps him own his body.

When Kurt calls, Blaine goes through to his bedroom and shuts the door, even though he’s home alone. It feels safer in here. He sits on his bed, legs drawn up under him, and answers the call.

“Hi,” he says, his voice sounding so unenthused.

“Hey,” Kurt says softly.

“I’m going to say some words now,” Blaine tells him.

“Yeah, that’s generally how conversations work, Blaine,” Kurt says.

Blaine sighs, pushing himself down on the bed so he can stare at the ceiling. He doesn’t want to do this. He doesn’t want to risk the best thing he’s ever had.

“I came on too strong, right?” Kurt prompts.

“No, no,” Blaine says quickly, his first instinct to make Kurt happy, to not cause any conflict. He rolls his eyes at himself. “Well, yeah. But it’s not your fault. I flirted with you too. I told you that you’re gorgeous. Which you are. And, god, you turn me on so much I want to tear my fucking hair out,” Blaine spits.

“Well, I suppose that’s a compliment,” Kurt says.

“No, it’s not,” Blaine insists. “You don’t want me to want you. I am a mess, Kurt. I’m a disaster.”

“That’s not what I saw at the meeting the other night,” Kurt says.

“Please don’t say nice things to me,” Blaine says, his voice breaking.

“So what do I do?” Kurt asks. “Give you space?”

“I don’t know,” Blaine says. “I don’t want space. But I also can’t have a relationship. I can’t flirt with you like it’s nothing, it’s not nothing.”

“Yeah, it’s never been nothing,” Kurt agrees. “Look, I am here to support you. I want you to get better. And if you need me not to be in your life for a bit while you focus on that, I can do that.”

Blaine sniffles. He’s so sick of crying. He’s sick of being weak and pathetic. “I don’t want to lose you, Kurt.”

“You’re not,” Kurt insists. “Remember in New York, when we had that grown-up, adult conversation about you moving out? We needed that space. And it worked. It was the right choice.”

“No, it wasn’t, because it all happened again as soon as I moved back in,” Blaine says. “I push you away every time you give me a chance. I’m going to do it again and I can’t handle that, Kurt. I can’t.”

“Remember what else was going on?” Kurt says. “Everyone left New York. No more Rachel in the apartment. No more friends acting as buffers when we hung out. No more Monday night dinners. We went to the same school and we came home to the same apartment and we didn’t have anything to turn to but each other. That’s too much pressure for anyone. But we have our own lives now. Our own places, our own jobs, our own friends, our own interests. We wouldn’t have to rely on each other. It would be a choice. So if we took a break from this, if we just concentrated on our own stuff for a while, that wouldn’t be a death sentence. I don’t think the timing is right. And that’s okay.”

Blaine squeezes his eyes shut, tears sliding down his temples. “It sounds like you’re breaking up with me.”

“I’m not your boyfriend, I can’t break up with you,” Kurt says, the words kind but firm. Blaine lets out a little sob. “I know,” Kurt says. “But you have worked so hard. I’m really proud of you. And I love you, I do. But you need to set boundaries. So tell me, honestly, what is going to help you right now?”

Blaine wipes at his tears, rolling onto his side. He feels so miserable, and yet there’s a lightness inside him. He gets to make a choice. That’s such a liberating, empowering thing. He can be in control of this, and that means the addiction’s not winning.

“I need space,” he admits. “I need to get my head around some things. And maybe start looking at what comes next for _me_ , as a singular, not hitched to somebody else’s dream.”

“That sounds smart,” Kurt says. “Thank you for being honest.”

“But I don’t want to cut you out of my life,” Blaine says.

“You can text me or call me whenever you want,” Kurt says. “And if it’s okay, I’d like to check in every so often. But you need to tell me straight away if I cross a line, like you did today. I need to trust that you’re going to do that.”

“You can trust me,” Blaine says. He thinks it might be the first time he’s said those words to Kurt and truly meant them.

After they hang up, Blaine goes through to the kitchen to get a glass of water and sees that Sam is home. He glances up at Blaine and then takes in his wet eyes and defeated posture. Blaine gives him a sad little smile and a shrug and Sam pulls him into a hug, Blaine pressing into his chest as he starts to cry again. Sam just holds him and rubs his back and lets him cry it out.

“What’s going on?” he asks when Blaine finally settles down.

Blaine looks up at him, taking half a step back. He shakes his head. “It’ll be okay,” he says, determination in his words.

Sam nods, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “Yeah.” His blind faith makes Blaine feel a little stronger.

He tries to put Kurt out of his mind, tries not to make him a reward in all this, because people aren’t prizes and Blaine doesn’t get to decide what role they play in his life. He still feels a hollow inside him though. Maybe that same missing piece from when they lost their virginities, so much more pronounced after he felt Kurt within his grasp again. He could have had him. But then he’ll just be the same old co-dependent Blaine and that’s too much to put on anyone.

So instead he focuses on Aiden’s observation that all of Blaine’s proudest moments are linked to performing. He focuses on Kurt’s insight that they need separate lives if they’re ever going to build something successful together. That all leads to one place in Blaine’s mind. The Warblers.

Blaine gets on Facebook, ashamed that he doesn’t really know where any of his old friends ended up. He discovers that Trent is still local though, living in Columbus and giving singing lessons to kids. Blaine smiles at the thought. He bets he’s awesome at it.

He sends a message, telling Trent that he’s back home, and is touched when Trent seems genuinely pleased to hear from him. He doesn’t think he deserves it. They meet up at the Lima Bean, just like old times, and Trent catches him up on what all the Warblers have been up to since leaving Dalton. Mostly prestigious things. Blaine is definitely the missing link there. Maybe he always was. He only ever went to Dalton because it wasn’t safe for him at his public school. Going to private school wasn’t in his or his parents’ plan. Cooper did just fine at public school. Blaine’s never been good at living up to his standards though.

But Dalton was his safe haven, before that became Kurt, and Blaine is so grateful to have had it. He doesn’t think he would have even graduated high school if he’d stayed where he was. Dalton saved him, gave him opportunities he wouldn’t have gotten anywhere else. And Blaine threw that all away for a boy. He swapped his safety and his future to bet it all on Kurt. And he lost.

Now Blaine has a chance to make those choices again, and as much as his gut and his heart want Kurt, he’s making the smart choice. He’s going to create opportunities for himself again. He’s going to build a future.

He starts by asking Sam if he can come and sing at glee club again. He knows it’s a bit ridiculous, and that he’s crashing a high school extra-curricular, but singing at the karaoke bar to people who are usually drunk or disinterested or both, doesn’t really give him the same feeling as performing for people who understand the art. And he wants to explore this. He wants to figure out if it’s still an option.

Sam is genuinely excited and claims that the glee club are too after he tells them. Blaine respects those kids so much and if there’s even a chance that they look up to him, he wants to do this right. It’s not going to be karaoke. He sits down at his keyboard every evening, putting together an arrangement, pulling out all the little details and flourishes, making the piece his own. It helps him connect to it like singing along to a backing track never could. It feels like a part of him. He wants to cry at how good it feels to create instead of destroy. By the time it’s ready to share with the glee club, he has no nerves, just excitement. He can’t wait to show his hard work off.

He meets Sam in the teacher’s lounge, which still feels incredibly weird and forbidden, and they go down to the choir room together. Just like old times. A few of the kids cheer when he comes in and he gives them a wave, shying away from the praise. He hasn’t earned it yet. But he’s going to.

“Mr. Blaine Anderson,” Sam says with a flourish. “You’re going to start us off today, right?”

“Yeah,” Blaine agrees, going over to the piano and lifting the lid. “Thanks for having me.” He looks over at the band. “You guys can sit this one out, I got it.” He plays over a few notes, checking the tuning. “Sam told me that your lesson this week was My Future Self, and I’m still trying to figure that one out, the idea that any adult knows what they’re doing is a lie, but this song feels like a pretty good jumping off point for me.”

He gives a little nod and takes a breath, sitting up straight. Posture. Breath control. Confidence. Triple threat. He starts to play, his body moving into the music as though it’s winding around him.

_I close my eyes and I can see_  
_The world that's waiting up for me_  
_That I call my own_  
_Through the dark, through the door_  
_Through where no one's been before_  
_But it feels like home_

As the tempo picks up, his voice gets stronger, more determined. His fingers move across the keys, feeling that fluidity that he’s never quite sure is him playing the music or the music playing him. It’s such an incredible feeling, to be connecting to something like that, something that you truly have control of, something that can’t hurt you back.

_They can say, they can say it all sounds crazy_  
_They can say, they can say I've lost my mind_  
_I don't care, I don't care, so call me crazy_  
_We can live in a world that we design_

He lifts his head, knowing he has this, he’s practiced a million times. Instead he looks out at his audience and he puts his whole heart into the words as he projects them out with so much power he can feel it bursting from his chest.

_'Cause every night I lie in bed_  
_The brightest colours fill my head_  
_A million dreams are keeping me awake_  
_I think of what the world could be_  
_A vision of the one I see_  
_A million dreams is all it's gonna take_  
_A million dreams for the world we're gonna make_

He smiles through the words, letting his emotion lift them up. He had this once, a million dreams and the belief that he could make them all come true. And maybe he still can. Right now, with the melody coming from his fingertips and the voice pushed from his lungs, he feels like maybe he can do anything. This has to be better than any drug. It’s certainly a hell of a lot healthier than giving himself away piece by piece, and maybe it even helps someone instead of hurts them.

As the song comes to a close he gets a thunderous round of applause and he can’t stop beaming. He gives a little bow and then goes to sit down as Sam takes over. His heart is beating so fast in his chest and he’s breathless in the best way possible, his body buzzing and yet deeply satisfied at the same time.

Once the next kids come up to perform, Sam sits down beside Blaine. “You sure you don’t want to be my assistant?”

Blaine gives him a look. “I already have a job.”

“Unpaid intern?” Sam suggests.

Blaine purses his lips. “That actually might not be the worst thing.”

Sam grins at him. “We’re trying to put together our set for Nationals. We could really use a number like that.”

“Oh, yeah, you can have the song,” Blaine says. “It’s not like it’s mine.”

“Not the song,” Sam says. “The arrangement. The heart. It’s unique and it will be a gut punch to the judges. But it would have to be with something the kids connect to, they have to sell it.”

Blaine nods. “I could work on something with them if they choose a song that speaks to them.”

“You are the greatest,” Sam enthuses. “Although you can’t have my job. Unpaid intern only.”

“I don’t want your job, Sam,” Blaine assures him.

“Yeah, your future’s bigger and brighter than that,” Sam agrees. “I can’t wait to visit and then come back here because I am not built for all that… razzle dazzle.”

Blaine laughs. “I do look good in sequins.”

He still has far too much energy when he gets home that evening so he ends up making a ridiculously complicated recipe for he and Sam, just to give himself something to do. Sam is grateful and they eat together, watching a quiz show and yelling the answers at the screen. Sam has a surprising amount of random knowledge, but Blaine still crowns himself the winner. Not that they were keeping score.

After Sam goes to bed, Blaine finds himself feeling lonely. He wanders around the apartment, tidying things away, not wanting to call it a night because then this feeling fades away. This feeling of accomplishment and competence and pride.

He’s lying in bed before he admits to himself the one person he really wants to share this feeling with. He stares at Kurt’s number in his phone. That little scarf emoji is still next to his name. They haven’t spoken for nearly two weeks now. And it’s late. Kurt keeps professional business hours, he’s probably tucked up in bed getting his beauty sleep right now. Or he’ll be in the latter stages of his skincare routine at least. Interrupting that might be even worse.

He doesn’t put his phone down though. He stares at Kurt’s name until his finger hovers over the button, and then he presses down. Kurt answers after two rings.

“Hi,” he greets. He doesn’t sound sleepy. Or upset.

“Hi,” Blaine says. “Is it okay that I called you?”

“Of course it is,” Kurt says. “I told you, I want to stay in contact, so long as that’s something you can handle.”

“Yeah, I just wanted to talk to you tonight,” Blaine says.

“Everything okay?” Kurt asks. His voice is light though. Optimistic.

“It is,” Blaine says. “I sang at glee club today. Which sounds like something I could have said to you five years ago.”

“Oh, that’s great,” Kurt says. “How did it go?”

“It was really good,” Blaine says. “I did my own arrangement, played it on the piano, really owned it. It felt great. I feel great.”

“I’m so happy for you,” Kurt says. “And you sound really happy too. I like you sounding happy.”

Blaine smiles. “Yeah, all that emo bullshit is overrated.”

“Isn’t it just,” Kurt says dryly.

Blaine snuggles down further in his bed. “Sam wants me to help with an arrangement for Nationals too,” he says. “And I’ve been reconnecting with some of my friends from the Warblers. I met up with Trent and I’ve been messaging some of the other guys.”

“Sounds like you have some good things going on,” Kurt says. “I think that’s just what you need in your life right now.”

“I feel like I’m kind of retracing my steps, trying to figure out where I lost myself,” Blaine says. “It felt so amazing to be performing, to put something together like that and not just sing to a backing track. I felt like me. I haven’t felt like me in a really long time.”

“I told you, you belong on a stage,” Kurt says.

“Or at a piano in a high school choir room,” Blaine says.

“I don’t believe that for a second,” Kurt says. “But it’s a good jumping off point”

Blaine sighs. He feels so wonderfully content in this moment. “I want to keep talking to you.”

“Well, we’re grown-ups, we don’t have a bedtime,” Kurt points out.

“No, I mean, I don’t want to lose touch,” Blaine says.

“I’m always here if you want me,” Kurt says easily.

Something about the word _want_ makes heat pool in Blaine’s belly. He pushes it away. “How about every Sunday?” he asks. “We could talk about our weeks and check in with each other. Because relationships take effort. Friendships. It’s really easy to slide apart without realising it. I did it with everyone I knew, except part of that was the self-sabotage and part was the shame, but some of it was just plain apathy. These things take attention. They take maintenance. Like anything in life, which is something I’m belatedly learning now. So maybe cute pictures and flirting are going to make me lose my mind, but we could be friends. I really miss being your friend.”

“I miss being your friend too,” Kurt says softly. “And I like the idea of a weekly debrief. You’re probably going to be getting a lot of bitchy rants about some of these goddamn people I have to deal with in this industry.”

Blaine smiles. “I like the sound of that.”

“And if you’re ever not up to it, just send me a text, then I know you’re okay,” Kurt says. “No questions asked.”

“Okay, deal,” Blaine agrees.

“Keep singing, Blaine Anderson,” Kurt says. “The world deserves your voice.”

Blaine laughs. “Goodnight, Kurt.”

It becomes their routine, adding structure to Blaine’s life. Knowing that he’s going to be telling Kurt about his week makes him take notice of what steps towards self-improvement he’s making and what he achieves. He doesn’t let a milestone pass him by, no matter how small, and it gives him the motivation to keep moving forward.

He loves hearing about Kurt’s week too, loves how easy it is to talk to him. Kurt has always been engaging and fascinating to Blaine, but his confidence is clearly soaring to new heights in New York. It doesn’t give Blaine that same feeling it did when they were at NYADA together, that hopeless feeling of trying and failing to catch up. They’re not in competition with each other. They never were. Blaine has ruined so much by letting his insecurities get the better of both of them. Now he just feels proud, and he knows that Kurt feels the same about him.

The New Directions choose Symphony by Clean Bandit as one of their songs for Nationals and Blaine spends a whole week of evenings working on an arrangement with them. The collaboration gives him such a great feeling of accomplishment, even though he won’t be the one performing it. He watches them making it their own, adding in the choreography, Sam guiding and inspiring them. No one gets to the top on their own. Blaine was destined to fail as soon as he cut all his friends out of his life when Kurt broke his heart. Now, he knows they have his back, and he’s so much stronger for it.

“Do you remember when the world was so exciting, but everything seemed life or death?” Blaine asks Kurt one Sunday.

“I think you might be spending too much time with teenagers,” Kurt responds.

Blaine smiles. “As much as I want to go back to that fork in the road where I took the wrong turn, I do not miss being seventeen.”

“God, the hormones,” Kurt says. “And your body’s changing and your brain chemistry’s changing and you’re trying to become a person, but you care way too much about how people are going to look at you in the halls.”

“Okay, I think most of that still applies to me,” Blaine says.

“What’s your body doing?” Kurt asks, and Blaine can hear the raised eyebrow.

“Alright, not that part,” Blaine says. “But at least when you’re seventeen and finding yourself, people are a lot more forgiving with you.”

“Who’s giving you shit?” Kurt asks. “I’ll break their legs.”

Blaine laughs. “That’s so sweet,” he says with mock cuteness. He shakes his head. “No one’s giving me shit.”

“Then you’re giving yourself shit, and that I will definitely not stand for,” Kurt says.

Blaine rolls his eyes. “You sound like Sam.”

“Good,” Kurt says decisively. “And are you really sitting there comparing yourself to teenagers?”

“No,” Blaine says. “It’s Nationals next week. I’m just having a lot of feelings about it. A lot of nostalgic feelings. We won.”

“We did,” Kurt agrees. “And no one can take that away from us.”

Blaine nods, feeling pride swell in his chest. “Yeah.” He licks his lips, sinking into the memories. “Kurt?”

“Yeah?”

Blaine closes his eyes. There’s so many things he wants to say, sitting right there on the tip of his tongue. All of them seem so hopelessly loaded though. They were happy. They were so happy. Blaine wants that feeling back, but he’s not sure you can ever really recapture first love, even if it’s with the same person. Nothing will ever be as pure and untarnished as that again. Life leaves a lot of scars.

“How was your week?” he asks Kurt, opening his eyes and staring up at the ceiling. It’s safe and it’s what really matters anyway. They can’t go back. Blaine is grateful for this moment and he’s not going to fuck it up.

He’s certain that Kurt noticed the ominous pause, but he doesn’t miss a beat. “I had meetings with some new prospective buyers, which is really exciting. We’re hoping to expand into more stores, maybe get some exclusive collections going on. If I can convince people I’m a good investment, I can get so many more pieces out there. We sell great in the department stores we work with, but I want to grab that younger audience. I want to be cool and hip.”

“You’ve always been cool and hip,” Blaine assures him.

“I have a lot of ideas to branch out,” Kurt says. “I don’t want to play it too safe. It’s been a balance between being unique enough to get noticed but wearable enough to get into the stores. I’d love to be able to get really creative now I’m more established though.”

Blaine smiles so much his cheeks hurt. “I’m so excited for you.”

He loves Kurt’s passion and the calculated way he got his name out there. His connections at Vogue gave him an amazing head start, but Blaine knows he still had to work his ass off and make it happen. He’s driven and motivated and he had no one to worry about but himself. That’s how he succeeded. Sometimes, that’s what it takes. If Blaine had been there, an anchor at his side, Kurt would never have been able to fly.

Nationals take place in Houston, Texas and Burt gives Blaine a couple of days off work so he can chaperone.

“I’m working double shifts when I come back,” Blaine promises.

“No you’re not,” Burt dismisses. “Have fun.”

“I want to earn my keep,” Blaine says. “This isn’t just a pity job.”

“It’s not exactly your dream job though, is it?” Burt says. “I honestly didn’t think you’d make it this long.”

Blaine shifts on his feet. “Do you not want me to work here?”

“Of course I do,” Burt says. “You’re a hard worker and when you sing along to the radio, it reminds me of Kurt being here. But I was just helping you get back on your feet. Might be time to run soon, kid.”

Blaine nods. “I’m working on it.”

Chaperoning a bunch of teenagers out of state is a stressful experience. Blaine wonders if Mr. Schue felt this out of his depth when he took them to New York or LA. Sam takes it all in his stride, insisting to Blaine that they probably won’t lose or kill any of them. As Blaine watches them skip out of the hotel doors, ready to explore the city, he feels like a mother watching her babies leave the nest.

“They’re fine,” Sam insists, putting his arm around Blaine’s shoulders and turning him away from the door. “They have each other’s backs and I trust them.”

Blaine nods. Maybe that’s why Mr. Schue didn’t look as stressed as he feels right now.

“So, I think we’re going to need big belt buckles and cowboy hats,” Sam says.

“I’m not sure we do,” Blaine says.

“Yeah, we’re going shopping,” Sam says. “Come on.”

If Blaine thought shopping with Kurt was exhausting, shopping with Sam was like trying to keep up with a hyperactive toddler. It is fun though, trying on all the ridiculous things that Sam picks out and posing for each other. When they’re wearing a particularly impressive matching pair of wide-brimmed hats, they take a selfie together pulling silly faces and Blaine can’t help sending it to Kurt. It’s harmless enough and there’s zero chance of it being considered sexy.

Kurt responds within a couple of minutes. _Bold style choice. You two look like you’re having fun._

Blaine smiles at his phone, feeling pleasantly warm all over.

“I can guess who that is,” Sam teases.

“We’re just friends,” Blaine insists, putting his phone back in his pocket.

“You don’t look at my texts like that, but fine,” Sam says, going off to explore the back of the store.

The kids all return as they should by dinner time and after they eat, they run through some rehearsals, all nervous energy and excitement and frayed nerves, but they get through it. When Blaine sits in the audience the following day, he has no doubt they’re going to smash it.

He beams with pride as they hit every step, every note, putting their hearts into it and letting their voices shine through, literally and figuratively. They get the audience on their feet and Blaine watches the smiles on the judges faces. Whatever happens, they couldn’t have done any better, and Blaine hopes that they know that.

They make the top 3 and Blaine watches them, all holding hands, Sam their fearless leader at the front. Third place goes to a school in Washington. Blaine holds his breath, heart hammering in his chest. And then they’ve won. They’ve done it. Blaine jumps up, cheering louder than anyone, and he can’t wait to get backstage and hug them all.

They end up having a dance party in one of the conference rooms that they’re probably not supposed to be in, but they’re winners and in that moment they’re untouchable. The trophy sits in the middle of the table, the centrepiece of their celebrations, and Blaine takes a photograph of it, sending it to Kurt.

_We did it._

_Congrats. I knew you would. You and Sam have always been a great team._

Blaine feels something hollow inside him. It’s true, they always have, and Blaine loves him dearly. But Sam’s future is not his, Blaine’s more sure of that than ever. He’s been honoured to be along for this journey, but when September rolls around, he doesn’t hope to be in that choir room again. He wants something for himself instead.

Sam does manage to get him back one more time though, for their celebratory glee club where everyone is going to sing their favourite songs and let loose after so much hard work going into Nationals. The trophy is secure and now they get to remember why they joined glee club in the first place. Because it’s fun and they have a song in their hearts. For the love of it. That should be everyone’s priority in life.

“New Directions, congratulations!”

Blaine turns to see Will enter the room, the kids all cheering at his entrance. Sam beams as Will pulls him into a hug, patting him on the back.

“Sam, you did great, they knocked it out of the park,” Will says.

“Couldn’t have done it without my right hand man,” Sam says, gesturing towards Blaine.

Will nods but doesn’t say anything, turning back to the kids. “You have worked your butts off this year, you deserved this, well done guys. I couldn’t be prouder. I’m not here to ruin your party though, so come on, who’s next?”

“You’re not going to rap?” Sam asks.

“Please don’t encourage him,” Blaine responds.

Will laughs as some of the kids come up to the front, jumping into the next song. Will puts his arm around Blaine, leading him off to the side.

“You really have been an asset this year, Blaine,” Will says. “And the kids love you.”

“I already have a job,” Blaine says.

Will raises his eyebrows. “If I thought you could be happy here, I would have offered you a job months ago,” he says. “But we both know you’re just passing through. It’s been an honour to have you, thank you for everything you’ve done for these kids. You’ve really made a difference.”

“I’ve been working through some stuff,” Blaine says. “So they’ve actually helped me a lot too.”

Will nods. “I do have one last favour to ask before you move onto whatever comes next for you.”

“And what’s that?” Blaine asks warily.

“We have an Annual McKinley Alumni Fundraiser here where former students come and give back, helping raise money for the current students,” Will explains. “I’d love to have you perform.”

Blaine feels a thrill go through him, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Seriously? I’d love to.”

He doesn’t wait until their Sunday catch up to call Kurt and let him know.

“Oh, god, Rachel does that thing every year,” Kurt says. “She’s always trying to make me go with her.”

Blaine chews on his lip. “I was kind of hoping you might come and see me in it,” he says tentatively.

“You I’ll definitely come see,” Kurt insists. “I can’t wait. Do you want me to leak you Rachel’s songs and you can sing them before her? It would be hilarious.”

“I think I’ll just do my own thing, thanks,” Blaine says, giving a laugh. “Should I be worried that you’re trying to sabotage your best friend?”

“Look, I love Rachel dearly, I really do,” Kurt says. “But the girl is on Broadway and she still makes this Alumni Fundraiser sound like it’s the most important thing she has going on in her life. She takes a night off for it and she makes sure everyone knows it. She’s singing in a high school auditorium, she needs to get a grip.”

“It’s not just a high school auditorium though, is it?” Blaine says.

Kurt sighs. “I guess not.” He clears his throat. “Anyway, I am so happy for you, you really deserve this.”

“Thanks,” Blaine says. “Now I just have to decide what I’m going to sing.”

“Katy Perry, obviously,” Kurt says.

“Well, obviously,” Blaine agrees before laughing. He melts back into the couch cushions. “I can’t wait to see you.”

“You too,” Kurt agrees.

It’s dangerous territory, but Blaine has something to show for himself now. His fantasies don’t revolve around Kurt and being his boyfriend and slotting into his life. He wants to be on that stage. He wants that with or without Kurt. Kurt being there is just a bonus, and that makes Blaine feel more empowered than anything.

He invites his parents, as well as all the Warblers who are still close by enough to make the trip. The fact that they seem to actively want to come and support him, even his dad, makes Blaine even more excited for the show.

“So, do you need a pep talk?” Sam asks, standing with him backstage.

“No, I’m going to kill it,” Blaine says.

“Yeah, you are,” Sam agrees.

Blaine looks at him. “But maybe give me that pep talk anyway.”

Sam opens his mouth to respond but is cut off.

“Blaine!”

He turns to see Kurt and Rachel coming towards him. Rachel looks like she’s going to attend the Tonys, and Kurt just looks… perfect. It’s like everything else stops for a moment and Blaine feels a rush of affection. He moves forward and Kurt meets him halfway, pulling him into a hug. They hold each other tightly, arms wrapped around each other, bodies pressed together. Blaine closes his eyes, squeezing harder, and Kurt doesn’t let go.

“I missed you,” Blaine says.

“I missed you too,” Kurt responds.

He turns his face towards Blaine, his nose brushing Blaine’s temple, and for a second Blaine thinks he’s going to kiss him there, wants him to kiss him there, or anywhere, but then Kurt pulls away.

“We wanted to say hi before you went on.”

“Yeah, _we_ did,” Rachel agrees, moving past Kurt to give Blaine a quick hug. “It’s so great that you’re doing this. It’s a fantastic event.”

“Your name’s not up in lights tonight, Rachel, and it’s Blaine’s turn right now,” Kurt says.

“No, I’m really looking forward to seeing you sing,” Blaine tells her.

“I can get you tickets for my show the next time you come to New York,” Rachel offers.

“We should go take our seats,” Kurt says, taking hold of her hand. “Break a leg,” he tells Blaine.

“Thanks,” Blaine says.

“That looked like a very platonic hug,” Sam says as they walk away.

“Shut up,” Blaine tells him.

He grabs Sam’s guitar from the side of the stage, which has spent more time in Blaine’s room than anywhere else lately, and gives it a strum as Will goes on to introduce him.

“Our next performer was a part of the New Directions the first year that we won Nationals here at McKinley, and he’s been a big part of them winning again this year, from the class of 2013, please welcome Blaine Anderson”

Sam gives him a pat on the back and Blaine steps out onto the stage. He can’t remember the last time he’s been up in front of this big an audience. He feels very lonely all of a sudden. He usually has back up when he’s performing in front of a crowd like this. As he steps up to the microphone he scans over the faces, finding his parents, the Warblers, and finally Kurt. Blaine smiles at him before looking down at the guitar and playing the opening riff.

_You took my hand_  
_You showed me how_  
_You promised me you'd be around_  
_Uh huh_  
_That's right_  
_I took your words_  
_And I believed_  
_In everything you said to me_  
_Yeah huh_  
_That's right_

There’s no sounds in the auditorium except for the acoustic guitar strumming into the microphone and his raw, honest voice. It feels so incredibly personal, like he’s stripped bare, but he wants to own that. Get the poison out. He’s going to be free.

_If someone said three years from now you'd be long gone_  
_I'd stand up and punch them out 'cause they're all wrong_  
_I know better_  
_'Cause you said forever_  
_And ever_  
_Who knew_

As he sings the words out to the audience, he deliberately avoids looking at Kurt. He can’t. But he hopes he gets it. The love. The regret. This one’s for him as much as it is for Blaine. Just because it’s a break-up song, that doesn’t mean they can’t learn and grow. It’s about a moment in time. Blaine doesn’t believe in real endings anymore.

_When someone said count your blessings now_  
_‘Fore they're long gone_  
_I guess I just didn't know how_  
_I was all wrong_

It’s only as the song comes to an end that Blaine finally dares to look over and meet Kurt’s eyes. They’re soft and warm and everything Blaine wants to see.

_My darling_  
_I miss you_  
_My darling_  
_Who knew_  
_Who knew_

As the crowd cheers, Kurt simply puts his hand over his heart. Blaine smiles at him, giving him a nod. He gets it.

Blaine turns, handing the guitar over to Sam who’s waiting and taking the microphone out of the stand as the band starts to take their places behind him.

“Thank you,” he says. “Thanks. Yeah, I was known for a few things when I was at McKinley. A former Warbler.” His friends cheer and he gives them a huge smile. “They called me Blaine Warbler for a while,” he says. “And, uh, being the new Rachel,” he says, nodding towards her. “I had that honour. Also, my incredible sense of style,” he says, gesturing to his outfit. “Love a bowtie. But mostly I think I was known for being a Katy.” He gives a nod to the band.

_Days like this I want to drive away_  
_Pack my bags and watch your shadow fade_

Where as he put his heart into the last song, he puts all of his energy and determination into this one. This is the opposite of being vulnerable and he moves around the stage, engaging with the audience, throwing in dance moves and having fun with it.

_You chewed me up and spit me out_  
_Like I was poison in your mouth_  
_You took my light, you drained me down_  
_But that was then and this is now, now look at me_

He’s singing this song towards every person who ever hated him because of his sexuality or the fact that he was in glee, every inadequacy that ate him up, every insecurity that drove people away, every bit of self-sabotage that led him to that dark place he ended up in. Past tense. He’s not going back there again.

_This is the part of me_  
_That you're never gonna ever take away from me, no!_  
_Throw your sticks and your stones, throw your bombs and your blows_  
_But you're not gonna break my soul_  
_This is the part of me_  
_That you're never gonna ever take away from me, no!_

He feels so liberated, saying these things out loud, fighting his demons with all these witnesses, even if most of them think it’s just a song. That’s what he loves about music though. It can mean a million different things to a million different people, but it always means something, and it says things there’s no other way to say. When he looks at Kurt though, he feels like they’re on the same page. He kind of always has.

_Now look at me I'm sparkling_  
_A firework, a dancing flame_  
_You won't ever put me out again I'm glowin' oh whoa_

He dances around the stage as he finishes up the song, using all his best diva moves, not caring if his dad is humiliated by him. He feels free and he feels like himself and nothing is going to take that away from him. Maybe he still doesn’t know what comes next for him, but he knows that it’s his time, and he’s going to fight like hell to keep the spotlight this time.

He’s breathless and sweaty by the time he’s done, bowing in the centre of the stage as he gets a standing ovation. It’s just for him. He blows a kiss out to no one in particular and jogs off stage to meet Sam, collapsing into him with laughter.

“That was amazing,” Sam says. “I knew you’d kill it.”

“I really did kill it,” Blaine says, hardly able to believe it. “They loved it.”

“They loved you,” Sam says.

At the intermission, Kurt and Rachel come backstage again and Blaine is still so buzzed he can barely keep still.

“Oh my god, that was incredible,” Kurt gushes.

“Blaine, you did fantastic,” Rachel agrees.

“Thanks,” Blaine says, unable to keep the smile off his face. He nods his head. “Yeah, I still love that.”

“There is nothing else like it in the world,” Rachel says. “Speaking of which, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go warm my voice up.”

“Sure,” Blaine says, watching her go.

“Yeah, so, there’s a spare seat next to me for the second half if you want it,” Kurt says.

“Oh, thanks,” Blaine says.

“Only if you want to,” Kurt says. “I know you have your own things going on.”

“I was going to go check in with my friends and my parents,” Blaine says. “But after that, I’d be grateful for a seat.”

“Well, you know where I am,” Kurt says, touching his arm before moving away.

Blaine goes out to the auditorium, finding his friends and basking in their praise. He figures he deserves it, not necessarily for tonight, but for digging himself out of this goddamn hole. There’s hugs and kind words and promises to stay in touch that Blaine really means this time. He’s not sure he’d still be around without Dalton, without these friends who lifted him up after being beaten down for being who he was. He’s not going to forget that again.

Next he goes to check in with his parents. His mom pulls him straight into a hug, telling him how wonderful he is. He looks over at his dad, raising his eyebrows.

“You’re a Katy?” his dad asks. “Is that…?”

“It’s not a gay thing,” Blaine responds. “Katy Perry. Wholesome boy-next-door type.”

“I’m just checking,” his dad says. “I never understand half the things you and Cooper are talking about.”

“No one understands what Cooper’s talking about,” Blaine says.

“You did a really great job up there,” his dad tells him. “I know it’s taken a lot for you to get to where you are today. You’ve had some setbacks. I’m proud of you for never giving up.”

Blaine feels like he might burst into tears, his chest tight. “Thanks,” he manages.

His dad gives him a nod and then pulls him into a hug.

As the second half is about to start, Blaine slips into the now empty chair beside Kurt.

“Hi.”

“Hey,” Kurt says, smiling at him. He considers him for a moment. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Blaine says, still feeling a little dazed. “My dad just told me he’s proud of me.”

“Well, you’re pretty impressive,” Kurt says. “I’m sure he’s been proud of you before.”

“For good grades and sporting achievements,” Blaine says. “Not for being myself.” He stares out at the empty stage. “He got really distant after I came out. I don’t think he ever meant to hurt me or he was ashamed of me. But he couldn’t relate to me anymore because I wasn’t interested in girls, and I never understood because we never talked about girls anyway. But he had all these hopes and dreams for me and Cooper, he wanted us to be successful and he wanted up to get married and give him grandkids and live these traditional, upstanding lives. He didn’t know what to do with a gay son. Sometimes he talks to me like I’m an alien. He’s never felt like an ally. But today he kind of does.”

“Then I’m glad,” Kurt says, placing a hand on his arm.

Blaine stares down at it, imagining that hand in other places; against his cheek, cradling the back of his neck as they kiss, sliding underneath his shirt. Thankfully, Will comes back out on stage before those thoughts can go any further and Kurt’s hand slips away.

Now that his own performance is out of the way, the tension and adrenaline in Blaine’s body have shifted to that sated satisfaction that comes from a job well done and he feels like he can enjoy watching the other acts a lot more. McKinley has produced some amazing talent. Blaine can’t help but feel like there’s something special about the original New Directions though. They had to fight an uphill battle, and everyone who came to William McKinley High School for the Performing Arts was walking in their footholds.

He relaxes further into his seat as the show goes on and he doesn’t quite notice how he and Kurt are sharing the armrest between them, their arms pressed together, but once he does, he can’t _not_ notice. They’re both covered, it’s only the fabric of their shirts that’s touching really, but Blaine can still feel the warmth. It makes him feel too hot all over, but in that really good way, the way that comes with a promise.

He chews on his lip, trying not to let his mind wander. That burning itch starts low in his gut though. He wants to straddle Kurt’s hips and grind against him, but more than that he wants to go out and find an easy fuck and just get it out of his system. Kurt means too much to him, he won’t reduce him to this disgusting primal urge, but if he goes and satisfies it somewhere else, he’s lost Kurt anyway. Kurt who he doesn’t have. But he wants him. He wants it so much it hurts, a twisting in his gut.

Blaine shifts in his chair and moves his arm away, sliding his hand into his pocket and taking out his green chip, turning it over and over in his hand. He’s come too far to fuck this up now. For his own sake, he reminds himself. This needs to be about him.

“You’re going to make it,” Kurt says quietly.

Blaine looks over, realising that Kurt is watching him. “Yeah,” he agrees, giving a little nod. He’s going to make it. He feels like he’s on a precipice and the rest of his life is out there if he can just figure out which way to jump.

Rachel is the headline act, of course, and her performance is nothing short of phenomenal. He knows that Kurt thinks this is just a big ego boosting exercise for her, and Rachel might love adoration and the spotlight more than anyone Blaine has ever met, and he went to NYADA, but he thinks this means so much more to Rachel than that. Being the big fish in her home town might get her more attention than staring in small Broadway performances where she’s just another star, but Blaine feels like if anything, it’s humbling. She’s remembering where she came from and showing everyone what’s possible. She doesn’t want these kids to have to fight the battles she did. And right now, Blaine finds that she’s showing him what’s possible too.

He leans back into Kurt. “Why aren’t you performing?”

“I told you, I avoid these things,” Kurt says. “It feels like going backwards. I don’t come home a lot. Not anymore.”

Blaine frowns, considering the amount of times he’s seen Kurt in Lima over the last few months. Maybe he hasn’t been coming home. Maybe he’s been coming to see Blaine. “But you’re here now,” Blaine points out. “I’m sure Mr. Schue would let you up there.”

Kurt gives a dismissive shake of his head. “I don’t want all that pressure. If I sing now, it’s for fun. I found my path. Now if Mr. Schue wants to do a Project Runway fundraiser…”

Blaine laughs. There’s not a hint of regret in Kurt’s answer, just pure confidence. “You should pitch it to him.”

Rachel gets the expected standing ovation, and despite Kurt’s accusations of showboating, he looks incredibly proud of her. They go to meet her backstage once it’s over, Sam coming to join them as Kurt and Rachel hug and gush at each other.

“So, where’s the afterparty?” she asks as she turns to them, still holding onto Kurt’s hand. The pair are kind of adorable. Blaine knows they’re basically blood, forging an unbreakable bond during their time in New York. “Oh, we should go to Scandals!” she says excitedly. “Drag queens love me.”

“Well, you know what they say, like loves like,” Kurt says dryly.

Rachel gives him a shove. “This is your dress.”

“I had nothing to do with the hair and make-up, honey,” Kurt says.

“You fit in that?” Sam asks, looking utterly confounded as he stares at Rachel’s dress.

“I made it, Sam,” Kurt says. “I don’t wear it.”

“Oh,” Sam says. “Yeah, no, that makes more sense.”

“We can’t go to Scandals,” Blaine cuts in. “The continued upwards trajectory of my life means I can never set foot in there again.”

Rachel gives him a questioning look.

“There’s a great sports bar that me and Blaine go to,” Sam says. “They give you a free bowl of pretzels and their wings are amazing.”

“Yeah, that’s going to be a hard pass from me,” Kurt says.

“Agreed,” Rachel says.

“Karaoke?” Kurt suggests.

“No more singing tonight,” Blaine complains.

“Hey, I’m the only one who didn’t get to sing,” Kurt says.

“Don’t start that, you said you didn’t care,” Blaine says. “You just want to try and show Rachel up.”

Kurt’s eyes light up. Rachel turns to him.

“Excuse me, am I missing something?” she asks.

“All I said was I was as good a singer as you,” Kurt responds, his voice casual, but that wicked gleam is in his eyes. “Maybe better on certain songs.”

“Okay, that’s it, Kurt Hummel,” Rachel says decisively. “You, me, karaoke bar, diva off.”

Kurt grins, triumphant. Blaine clearly walked right into that one.

Watching Kurt and Rachel singing Mariah Carey together is even more spectacular than watching Rachel’s set tonight. They’re both pitch perfect and singing like there’s a Tony on the line, but there’s so much heart behind the performance, and so much obvious love for each other.

_Lord knows_  
_Dreams are hard to follow_  
_But don't let anyone_  
_Tear them away_  
_Hold on_  
_There will be tomorrow_  
_In time_  
_You'll find the way_

The words resonate deeply with Blaine and he wonders which of them picked this song, wonders if he should take it as a message or just a happy coincidence. Either way, it’s the mantra he tries to tell himself daily, the thing he wants to live by, because this fight has to be worth something.

_And then a hero comes along_  
_With the strength to carry on_  
_And you cast your fears aside_  
_And you know you can survive_  
_So when you feel like hope is gone_  
_Look inside you and be strong_  
_And you'll finally see the truth_  
_That a hero lies in you_

The first time Kurt sang the chorus, the words had been directed at Blaine, but now he and Rachel only have eyes for each other. As the song comes to an end, they’re hugging and gushing at each other once again, breathless and laughing and so happy, not caring who won.

On the way back to their table, Rachel grabs some shots from the bar and insists they get the party started. As the only person who has work the next day, Blaine accepts the shot but stops drinking there. The garage is not a good place to have a hangover. Too much banging and yelling and nauseating smells. He still enjoys the night though, and he gets up to sing with Sam at his insistence. But mostly they all talk and laugh and it feels like high school only better. They’re in control now. They can go anywhere and do anything. But for tonight, they’ve chosen to be together.

When Kurt gets up to sing again and Sam sways off to the bathroom, Blaine finds himself alone with Rachel. He leans on the table, closing the gap between them.

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

Rachel looks over at him. “Sure.”

“I don’t really know what happened after you left New York,” Blaine says. “I mean, I know you’re back there now and you’re happy and successful and I’m so pleased for you. But how did you do that?”

Rachel shrugs. “I took the other path.”

Blaine frowns. “What does that mean?”

“I dropped out of NYADA to be in Funny Girl, and then I dropped out of Funny Girl to go make that pilot in LA,” Rachel says. “And then, after a lot of soul searching and options, I went back to NYADA. I picked up where I left off before I threw my life away. And I am so lucky that I was offered that opportunity. I wouldn’t be where I am now if I wasn’t. It was rough, and a lot of the faculty made me prove myself doubly hard, which is fair. But I feel like that forged me. I wasn’t done yet. Now I can face anything.”

Blaine nods, staring thoughtfully at the table top. She took the other path. Blaine has spent the last year figuring out how to undo all of the horrible decisions he made after Kurt called off the wedding, and he feels like himself again, but what’s the other path? Marry Kurt? Jumping into that would be a disaster. Go back to NYADA? He’s too old and there’s no way they’d take him back anyway. He’s no Rachel Berry. And is that even what he wants?

He looks at Rachel. “How did you know? Because I threw my life away too. And I want it back. I really want it back. But how did you know which path you were supposed to take?”

“I listened to my friends,” Rachel says. “And I listened to my heart. And I asked myself, do I want to perform for the sake of performing, or do I want to be brilliant? I wanted to be brilliant, I wanted to perfect my craft, I wanted to learn. Accepting that I still needed to learn, that was my turning point.”

Blaine sighs. “I waited too long,” he says sadly, tears in his eyes. “I can’t start all over now.”

“Hey,” Rachel says, putting a hand on his shoulder. “My path is not your path. You’re going to figure out your own way.”

“But I won’t be brilliant,” Blaine says. “I knew I squandered it all and I’ve been mad about it for so long, but I felt like I was close now. I felt like maybe I could win.” He gives a bitter laugh.

“I needed to be humbled,” Rachel says. “I needed someone to bring me down to earth so I could be my best self instead of just acting the part. But you seem like you humble yourself pretty well, Blaine. And you’re already brilliant. I know because you’ll always be my first Tony.”

She smiles and Blaine can’t help but smile back. “Thanks,” he says.

Sam returns to the table, having acquired another drink along the way, and they watch the end of Kurt’s performance, giving him a huge round of applause.

The next day, Blaine is at the garage when he spots Kurt approaching, a huge coffee in his hand. Blaine smiles, wiping his hands down on his coveralls as he steps away from the car he’s working on.

“Nothing says I’m too big for Lima like designer sunglasses on an overcast day.”

Kurt makes a pathetic noise. “Everything hurts.”

Blaine laughs. “Why aren’t you in bed?”

“Because I have to take a flight in a few hours, but I feel like I’m dying,” Kurt says. “I thought coffee and fresh air might help.”

“Is it?” Blaine asks.

Kurt winces as a wrench is thrown onto a metal work surface. “Not yet.”

“Well, sorry, but your dad’s not here,” Blaine says.

“I know that, he’s at home,” Kurt says. “I came to see you.”

“Oh,” Blaine says, trying not to look taken aback. “Well, hi.”

“Hi,” Kurt smiles, moving closer to him. “I want you to come visit me in New York.”

“Why?” Blaine asks without thinking.

“Because you’re my friend,” Kurt states. He pushes his sunglasses up so he can meet Blaine’s eyes. “I get it if you don’t want to or you can’t. You’re getting close to that six months, right?”

Blaine nods. “Two more weeks.”

“That’s amazing,” Kurt says. “ _You’re_ amazing. And I feel like we’re in a good place. I’d love the chance to hang out properly, just the two of us. I miss you. But I don’t want to push and you promised you wouldn’t let me, so you have to tell me honestly if it’s a bad idea. I am more than happy with our Sunday catch ups. They’re kind of the highlight of my week.”

“Mine too,” Blaine agrees. And this is what Blaine wanted, right? To find out what the other path was, if he didn’t lose Kurt and NYADA and New York. “I’ll think about it,” he says, not wanting to make a rash decision. “Maybe when I get my six month chip, I’ll come and show you it in person.”

“So long as you’re stylishly colour co-ordinated with your new accessory,” Kurt says.

Blaine smiles. “Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blaine sings [A Million Dreams](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pSQk-4fddDI) to the glee club and [Who Knew by Pink](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NJWIbIe0N90) and [Part of Me by Katy Perry](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uuwfgXD8qV8) at the fundraiser.  
> Kurt and Rachel sing [Hero by Mariah Carey](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0IA3ZvCkRkQ)


	6. Chapter 6

Blaine does a lot of thinking over the next two weeks. He doesn’t talk about Kurt in his meetings, not because he’s hiding things, but because that can’t be his focus. He’s doing this for himself and he has to find the path that works for him. If Kurt ends up being along that route, Blaine will be so happy, but he can’t be the destination.

The night he gets his six month chip, he takes a photo of it in his palm and sends it to Kurt. _My new friend would love a tour of New York._ Kurt sends back a string of heart emojis before even attempting to put together a response. A minute later, another text comes through. _I’d be more than happy to show you both some hospitality._

Blaine doesn’t get a hotel room this time. Kurt offers up his couch, and while it feels a little bit dangerous, Blaine is going there to spend time with Kurt, not pay too much for a hotel room he can be alone in. They trust each other and they understand each other’s boundaries and Blaine is much more scared of his own instincts than Kurt trying something. But he’s got this. It’s been six months. He’s so much stronger than when he started this journey. Maybe strong enough to start exploring this as a possibility.

He’s tempted to ask Kurt what outfit would best complement his new chip, but that feels like it would kind of ruin the fun. He wants to put the effort in himself, wants to show Kurt that he’s putting in the effort, wants to look nice for him. He wants Kurt to be impressed.

After much deliberation, he picks out navy chinos, a pale blue shirt with little navy birds embroidered into it, and a blue bowtie with white polka dots. It’s put together enough that it looks deliberate but not overdressed or too uncomfortable for a flight.

Kurt welcomes him into his apartment with a hug and it just feels so right, being in each other’s arms, whatever the context.

“I’m so glad you could come,” Kurt says as he pulls away, taking Blaine’s bag off him and looking him over. Blaine’s body feels hot as he waits for Kurt’s verdict. He likes the way his gaze feels on him. “You look really good,” Kurt says.

“Thanks,” Blaine says with a smile, resisting the urge to strike a pose. “It’s the colour of the moment in my little corner of the world.”

“You wear it incredibly well,” Kurt says, eyes scanning up and down him one more time before he moves to put Blaine’s bag down. “How was your flight? Are you hungry?”

“I’m fine,” Blaine says. “Thanks. And you can relax.”

“I like being a good host,” Kurt says.

“Then maybe come talk to me,” Blaine says, making his way to the couch.

“Okay,” Kurt agrees, walking towards the kitchen. “But I’m getting coffee. Do you want one?”

“Sure,” Blaine says.

He watches Kurt moving efficiently around the kitchen, his slim hips not being able to help giving a little sashay as he moves. And that’s the kind of thing that Blaine’s probably not supposed to be noticing. He looks good though, his hair relaxed and not over styled, the V of his slightly open shirt lacking any accessory, sleeves rolled up. He still has those little touches, a shiny belt, a showy watch, but he’s relaxed. He’s not trying to prove anything to anyone. He’s comfortable just being as he is with Blaine. Blaine couldn’t be more touched.

“Thanks,” he says as Kurt hands him his coffee.

Kurt sits beside him, tucking his legs underneath him as he takes a sip. He looks so vulnerable, a picture of openness. “So,” he says, cradling his cup in his hands as he looks at Blaine. “Six months.”

“Six months,” Blaine agrees.

Kurt smiles. “I’m really happy for you.”

“I’m really happy for me too,” Blaine nods. “It’s kind of nice not to be a complete disaster.”

Kurt laughs. “Can you believe that we’re grown-ups? Sometimes I remember and it just… blows my mind. I look around and wonder if everyone else is faking it as much as I am. I give people instructions at work, I delegate jobs and make all the big decisions and then I sit back and wonder why the hell all these people are listening to me. I don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“Yes, you do,” Blaine says easily. “It’s your dream and it’s your passion and you’re amazing at it. You’re the only person who can steer it. They’re just along for the ride. They believe in you as their captain. They wouldn’t be there if they didn’t.”

Kurt purses his lips together, considering this. “Okay, you can come and stay whenever you want,” he says, taking a sip of his coffee. “Also, I should get a captain’s hat.”

“You don’t own a captain’s hat?” Blaine asks. “How disappointing, Kurt Hummel.”

“I wonder where I can get one from,” Kurt says, narrowing his eyes, clearly already planning out his attack. If there’s one thing Blaine knows about Kurt, he can find anything if it’s fabulous. “It has to be authentic. The question is, do I go vintage or pick up a new one? I wonder if I should go to the docks.”

“A pretty thing like you should definitely not go to the docks,” Blaine tells him.

Kurt smirks at him. “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

Blaine shrugs, trying to hide his own smirk behind his coffee cup, but there’s no denying the blush that colours his cheeks. Kurt considers him for a moment and then places his coffee down on the table.

“Alright, I was thinking quick lunch. Something casual,” he says. “Rachel got us tickets for her matinée performance, but I’ve already seen it three times, if you want to bail we can totally go do something else. Then I have dinner reservations and I thought we could go out. If you want.”

“That sounds good,” Blaine says. “And I’d love to see Rachel’s play.”

“You’ll make Rachel very happy,” Kurt says.

The show is incredible and Rachel is outstanding. She puts so much charm and personality into the part, really making the character come alive. And the songs sound like they were written for her, which they probably were, her boyfriend is the director. It pulls together perfectly though and Blaine can’t fault it.

Sitting in the dim lights of the audience, the stage lit up like a beacon, Blaine feels a yearning for it. He wants to feel the warmth on his face, wants this captive audience to be hanging on his every word and note, wants the chance to explore a story that’s not his own and make people believe it. Acting is a form of lying. The thought gives him a sinking feeling inside. Applause is a form of affection. Is he only craving this to fill the gaps that the lack of intimacy has left him with?

They go backstage after the show to see Rachel in her dressing room. She squeals when she sees them, giving them both big hugs, the energy radiating off her brighter than those spotlights were.

“I’m so glad you could come,” Rachel says.

“At this point, I could probably sing it along with you,” Kurt says.

“Not you,” Rachel says, rolling her eyes. She looks at Blaine. “I really wanted you to see it.”

“You were amazing,” Blaine says. “Really. You brought the house down. And it’s a great show.”

“It is,” Rachel says excitedly. “Oh, look at us. All of us back here, right where we belong.”

“I’m not sure being a tourist in my own life is really where I belong,” Blaine says.

“No, sweetie, you’re not a tourist,” Rachel says. “You’re Broadway bound.”

“I don’t even know if that’s what I want yet,” Blaine dismisses.

He sees Rachel throw a confused look at Kurt, but before he can ask, Kurt gets to his feet.

“Anyway,” Kurt says, clapping his hands together. “We have dinner reservations. We should really get going. It was great seeing you, Rachel.” There’s something strangely forced about the way he’s talking.

“Uh-huh,” Rachel says. “Well, I don’t know how long you’re here, Blaine, but you’re welcome to come visit Jesse and I. We could do a double date.”

Kurt gives her a pained look. “Don’t make me regret being your best friend, Berry.”

“A friendly foursome,” Rachel amends.

“That just sounds dirty,” Kurt says.

“That does sound really dirty,” Blaine agrees.

“Ugh, get out of here you two,” Rachel says. “But call me, Blaine.”

“Sure,” Blaine agrees, giving her a wave as Kurt ushers him out of the room.

Kurt takes him to another of his favourite midtown restaurants, all atmospheric lighting and amazing food. It feels intimate, not just because of the vibe of the place, but because he and Kurt only have eyes for each other. He can feel himself leaning in closer over the small table as Kurt talks about work and designs and the opportunities he’s creating for himself. He feels almost starstruck listening to his success, but not because Kurt is a name now, one that means something. It’s because it’s _his_ Kurt, the same one he fell in love with back in high school, and that’s the same feeling that he carries to this day.

Blaine’s stories are less exciting, but Kurt is just as attentive, hanging on his every word. It makes Blaine feel so seen and so worthy, and he has enough self-esteem now to believe that he deserves it. He deserves support. He deserves a friend. He’s earned it. He deserves the affection he sees in Kurt’s eyes too, but it still feels like a riptide that could drag them both under.

Kurt flags down a cab when they leave the restaurant and Blaine can’t help but laugh.

“Do you ever take the subway now?” he asks, raising his eyebrows at Kurt.

“I’m not too good for it if that’s what you’re asking,” he says, opening the cab door and gesturing for Blaine to get in before him. Blaine shuffles across the seat and Kurt climbs in next to him. “But I’d rather have you to myself.”

Blaine blushes, certain that isn’t a line. Kurt’s not flirting. They’ve always gotten cabs when they’ve gone out and his intention was never… Except that first time, before Kurt knew he was a hooker, he was definitely trying to get lucky with Blaine then. But not after that. Right?

He suddenly realises where Kurt has directed the cab driver to go. “Seriously?” he asks. “Callbacks? Why do you want to spend so much time with NYADA students?”

“Why are you so against them?” Kurt counters.

Blaine shakes his head. “We could go anywhere in the whole of New York City. I just don’t get it.”

Kurt looks at him. “I want you to sing to me.”

“We could do that at a karaoke bar,” Blaine says. “Or your apartment for that matter.”

Kurt seems to consider this for a moment. “Maybe later.”

Blaine reaches his hand into his pocket, feeling his chip. For some reason he feels like he needs its strength and reassurance right now. “You want me to sing to you?” he asks in a small voice, not meeting Kurt’s gaze.

“I really do,” Kurt says, the words so earnest Blaine can practically feel them landing on him.

“Okay,” Blaine agrees, his voice still quiet, going through song options in his head.

He listens to the feelings coursing through his body, that sensation of his heart beating a little too fast at the thought of Kurt’s attention on him. He listens to the confidence that he’s grown into and pushes away the voices that tell him he can never deserve this, no matter what he does. He’s allowed to be happy. And Kurt’s allowed to make his own decisions in life. It’s only right that they should be informed ones.

By the time they get to Callbacks, Blaine has made up his mind. He goes up to the front on Kurt’s urging and gets himself next in line. When he steps up, taking the microphone, he gives his song choice to the guy on the piano and decides he’s going to look at no one but Kurt.

_This is my heartbeat song and I'm gonna play it_  
_Been so long I forgot how to turn it up up up up all night long_  
_Oh up up all night long_

He feels a flush of excitement at the words, and maybe at the way that Kurt is looking at him. He feels like he has wings, like he could fly, like he won’t crash and burn. Not this time.

_You, where the hell did you come from?_  
_You're a different, different kind of fun_  
_And I'm so used to feeling numb_  
_Now, I got pins and needles on my tongue_  
_Anticipating what's to come_  
_Like a finger on a loaded gun_

He can feel that itch, or maybe not that itch because it’s so much more than sexual. But there’s a sensuality to it that makes him move his hips, wishing that Kurt’s body was against his.

_I can feel it rising_  
_Temperature inside me_  
_Haven't felt it for a lifetime_

As he goes back into the chorus, his eyes finally pull away from Kurt’s, because if they don’t, he’s not sure he’s going to get through this without jumping him. He keeps the passion in his words though, sings right from his heart. 

_This is my heartbeat song and I'm gonna play it_  
_Turned it on_  
_But I know you can take it up up up up all night long_  
_Oh up up all night long_

He looks back to Kurt, he can’t not, he’s always had an irresistible pull over him, and as much as this song is about Blaine’s own sense of empowerment, it’s also about that glorious, weak feeling that Kurt gives him. He can’t tell if that’s balance or if they cancel each other out until Blaine is nothing.

_I, I wasn't even gonna go out_  
_But I never would have had a doubt_  
_If I’d have known where I'd be now_

Sex and love have been separated for so long but right now they feel like one and the same and he can’t figure out if that’s a good thing or not. He can’t remember what healthy is supposed to look like.

_Your hands on my hips_  
_And my kiss on your lips_  
_Oh, I could do this for a lifetime_

Just the words make a shudder go through Blaine. He licks his lips, watching Kurt’s eyes flick over the movement, and Blaine has to look away again. He sings the chorus out into the crowd, connecting with as many people as he can, hoping it will disperse this feeling inside him. When he gets to the next lines, he has to close his eyes though.

_Until tonight I only dreamed about you_  
_I can't believe I ever breathed without you_  
_Baby, you make me feel alive and brand new_  
_Bring it one more time_

He takes a breath and opens his eyes to sing the last chorus, looking out over the crowd, but he inevitably ends up locking eyes with Kurt again and he can’t look away. All he sees in Kurt’s gaze is love and pride and it makes him tear up. As turned on as he is right now, he doesn’t think he could handle Kurt looking at him with desire, as hypocritical as he knows that is. But the affection that he sees there is so reassuring, and it makes Blaine want to fall into him all the more.

By the time he finishes the song he’s flushed and sweaty and breathless, even though he was basically standing still. He goes over to Kurt and he just stares at him because he wants to hug him and he wants to kiss him and he wants to not want any of those things.

“Blaine, that was incredible,” Kurt says, almost as breathless. “That was… wow.”

Blaine lets out a breath of laughter. “Thanks.” He licks his lips again, watches Kurt watching him, and he feels like he’s going to tear out of his own skin.

“Shall we get a drink?” Kurt suggests.

“Yeah,” Blaine agrees. He doesn’t move though. He’s scared of breaking the spell and scared he won’t be able to. He feels his body sway towards Kurt’s and he snaps himself out of it. “I think I need to get some air actually.”

“Sure, I’ll come with you,” Kurt says.

“Can you… not?” Blaine asks awkwardly. “I just need to… I just…” He shakes his head. “Look, you can come get me in ten minutes if I don’t come back.”

Kurt considers him carefully. “Are you going to…?”

“No!” Blaine says urgently. “Seriously, no, nothing like that. I just want a minute. I need a minute. I need to just compose myself because that was kind of intense and I’m having a lot of feelings, but I’m not going anywhere, I swear.”

“Okay,” Kurt says.

“Thank you,” Blaine says earnestly before heading for the door.

It’s a little cooler outside, but not much. The city holds a lot of heat. It’s not like that night a year ago when Kurt stumbled back into his life on the road that Blaine was selling himself on though. He remembers how relentlessly sticky and oppressive it was. The air is fresh now, clean feeling, the heat radiating against his skin rather than holding him in its death grip. He can breathe. And so he does, listening to the sounds of the city and watching all the movement around him, feeling like he’s right in the middle of something that matters. He feels like the starring role in his own story, and that’s all anyone can really hope for, right?

“You okay?”

Blaine looks up as Kurt comes to stand beside him. “Yeah,” he says easily, looking at the lights. “I love this city.”

“You belong here,” Kurt says. “The city and I have missed you terribly.”

Blaine smiles. “We didn’t talk for two years.”

“But we’re talking now,” Kurt says.

“We’re talking now,” Blaine agrees, turning to face him.

“You want to get that drink?” Kurt asks.

Blaine nods. “Sounds great.”

They find a table once they’re back inside, sitting down with their drinks and watching some students doing a duet up front. Blaine looks at Kurt.

“So are you going to sing to me now?”

Kurt gives him a dismissive look. “I’m not singing.”

“Hey, come on, fair’s fair,” Blaine says. “I sang for you.”

“And it was beautiful and moving and seriously stunning, you couldn’t have done a better job,” Kurt says. “But I’m not singing. We already know what my calling is, remember?”

Blaine looks around. “And here I am, right back at the start.”

“No,” Kurt says. “You’ve outgrown this place. We both know that. But this was a fitting goodbye.”

Blaine narrows his eyes at him. It feels like Kurt knows something that he doesn’t, but then everyone lately has been so certain of his future except for him. He has to agree that New York is where he wants to be, and performing is doubtlessly where his heart lies, but he’s not willing to leave his safety net with Sam back in Lima for nothing more than a vague dream.

When they leave the bar, Kurt doesn’t hail a cab like he usually does. Instead, they walk down the sidewalks like they have all the time in the world. They head into the subway and Blaine’s not sure if Kurt is trying to prove a point about being a real New Yorker still, or if he wants to make sure that Blaine experiences the city for real to stoke his love affair. Or maybe he doesn’t want to be alone with Blaine right now. They sit close together though, closer than they would in a cab, thighs pressed against one another. It makes Blaine feel warm all over. He hopes that it’s innocent and hopes that it’s not.

“Do you want some tea or a nightcap?” Kurt asks when they make it back to his apartment. “Or I can just get the bedding for you if you want.”

“Tea sounds good,” Blaine says, taking a seat on the couch.

“Great,” Kurt says, going over to the kitchen and getting it started.

Blaine absently runs his hand over one of Kurt’s doubtlessly expensive throw cushions. Everything is so tactile and sensory. Blaine loves it. Sam doesn’t even have throw cushions. Something about that really brings home the fact that he’s only ever been a guest in Sam’s space. He really needs to fly the nest.

“Hey,” Kurt says, handing Blaine’s mug to him.

“Oh, thanks,” Blaine says, taking a sip. “This is good.”

Kurt nods but he looks distracted. He puts his own mug down before even trying it. “I have to tell you something.”

Blaine’s heart sinks. “You have a boyfriend.”

Kurt pauses, mouth opening, before giving Blaine an incredulous look. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Then what’s that look?” Blaine asks.

Kurt raises an eyebrow at him, giving him a self-deprecating look. The message is clear. He wants Blaine to be his boyfriend. He also thinks he’s a dumbass. Affectionately, Blaine guesses.

“Oh,” Blaine says dumbly.

“But, no, that’s not this conversation,” Kurt says with a shake of his head. “I have to tell you about something else.”

“Okay,” Blaine says warily.

“I have this client,” Kurt begins. “He’s a director, he always buys up my new collections and I’ve made some bespoke pieces for him. Right now, he’s casting for an original musical that’s going to be running off-Broadway.” He takes a breath and meets Blaine’s eyes. “I save up my favours wisely, and I used them all to get him to come listen to you sing at Callbacks tonight.”

Blaine’s eyes go wide. “What!? No, no, no. Why would you do that?”

“Because this is who you are, Blaine,” Kurt says. “It’s where you belong. Whenever I see you sing, it still gives me that feeling in the pit of my stomach, the same one I got when I saw you singing Katy Perry when I was 16 years old. You have a gift, an incredible gift. Just because you lost your passion, that doesn’t mean you can’t get it back. This is your redemption arc, Blaine Anderson. You’ve worked so hard and I am so proud of you.”

Blaine’s mind is racing. He can’t even begin to process this. “I was a mess up there,” he says. “Was I even good?”

“You were perfect,” Kurt says. “You were honest and you owned that song. Honestly, if he doesn’t offer you the part, I’m never designing for him again. And I might push him out of a window.”

Blaine laughs a little bit hysterically. He pushes his mug into Kurt’s hands because he doesn’t think he can get it safely to the table on his own. As Kurt takes care of it for him, Blaine buries his face in his hands, feeling like he’s about to have a panic attack.

“Oh my god,” he says. “Kurt. This is… this is insane. I can’t do this.”

“You absolutely can,” Kurt tells him. “If you want to.”

Blaine lifts his head, looking at him. “I live in Lima.” It’s the best excuse he can come up with.

“You’re too good for Lima,” Kurt says. “You’re too good for off-Broadway, but it’s a start. It’s what you deserve.”

Those are the words that finally get through to Blaine. Kurt is the person he’s hurt the most in this, over and over again, but he believes in Blaine, believes that he’s worth something, believes that he’s deserving of this chance. And he put himself on the line to give it to him.

“I think I need to sleep on this,” he says.

“Yeah,” Kurt agrees, getting to his feet. “I’ll get the bedding.” He disappears for a moment and then returns with sheets and a pillow and a blanket. “Do you want me to help make the couch up?”

“I got it,” Blaine assures him. “Thanks.” He looks into Kurt’s eyes when he says that, wanting to show that it’s for more than just the bedding. Judging by the smile Kurt gives him, he seems to understand.

“Okay, so I have that meeting in the morning, I’ll only be gone for a couple of hours, I’ll try not to wake you when I get up,” Kurt says. “But if you need anything, I’m right down the hall.”

Blaine nods. “Goodnight.”

Kurt lingers for a moment longer. “Goodnight,” he says, before turning and heading for his bedroom.

Blaine sets up a bed on the couch and then goes through to the bathroom to get ready for bed. He’s tired but not sleepy, not with so many thoughts buzzing around in his head. He spots the tea he abandoned earlier and picks it up, curling up on the couch and sipping it. It’s not hot now but it’s still warm and it gives him something to do.

He’s already acknowledged to himself, and Kurt, that he loves this city. That he loves performing. That he’s not in recovery anymore, he’s in the rebuilding phase. So Kurt setting this up for him, it’s not that out there. He just doesn’t know if he trusts himself to handle this and not slip back into old habits. He’s not even sure if that means the street or his co-dependency on Kurt, hell he had both at one point, but either way it only leads to one place. Can six months really undo a lifetime of destructive behaviour?

He puts his empty cup aside and lies down, trying to settle down. There’s still way too much adrenaline coursing through his veins though and the fact that Kurt is just down the hall, a slim door being all that’s separating them. A door that Kurt didn’t even close all the way Blaine noticed when he went to the bathroom. It was like some kind of invitation. Or he’s just used to being here alone and doesn’t think about things like closing doors. Besides, the guy lived behind a curtain for two years, privacy didn’t seem to be hugely high on his list.

But Blaine can feel it calling to him, even though he feels disgusting about it. Kurt all warm, maybe in pyjama pants, maybe in his underwear, sheets wrapped around him. It makes Blaine’s body ache. He always loved sleeping with Kurt. He loved sleepy kisses and affectionate touches before ending up tangled together in one way or another. He loved having Kurt in his arms. He loved not being alone. Despite how desperately he’s given himself up in the hopes of a connection that would make him feel anything other than worthless, he’s never actually shared a bed with anyone but Kurt. How can that be? The thought makes him feel more lonely and pathetic than ever.

He closes his eyes with a sigh, shifting to try and get comfortable. He remembers that first time with Kurt, how they’d held each other before, held each other afterwards, but Kurt had had to leave him there all alone. Blaine’s parents were coming home and they were teenagers who had to sneak sex like it was a dirty secret. But it wasn’t. It was beautiful. Why did they lie to kids about that? Why didn’t they tell them about all the emotions that went parallel to the hormones and the lust? Is that where it started? Dalton’s lack of sex-ed and his father’s own distaste for Blaine’s… preferences.

He knows he has to take responsibility for his own actions. He’s had plenty of opportunities in life to learn from his own mistakes and the perceived failure of the authority figures in his life. He didn’t have to take it this far. There were so many times when he should have turned around and just said no, walked away, had some respect for himself and his body. The fact that he never learned how doesn’t feel like a good enough excuse.

He remembers crying that night though, curled up alone in the rumpled sheets he’d so recently shared with Kurt. He felt so rejected, lying there in an empty bed and the remnants of what they’d done. He knew that Kurt loved him. He knew that Kurt would have stayed if there was any way he could. He knew all of that, but he’d felt walked out on. Even then, having only experienced sex once, he was associating it with being left behind. It was never enough.

He doesn’t even know what’s on the table now. Nothing, really. Just possibilities. The possibility of a part in a musical. The possibility of moving back to the city. The possibility of building something with Kurt again. But that’s all they are, dreams in the wind, and who knows if any of them will come to land. No one is offering him anything. Not yet. He’s so scared that they will and scared that they won’t.

When Kurt gets up in the morning, Blaine hasn’t really been asleep. He stretches on the couch, watching Kurt walk through in tight boxer briefs and a loose T-shirt that’s threatening to slip off one shoulder. It’s like it’s deliberately designed to be titillating. But it’s not, Blaine reminds himself. It’s gross of him to even think that.

“Hey,” Kurt says. “Did I wake you?”

Blaine shakes his head, eyes skimming over Kurt’s outfit without meaning to. He looks so good. And Blaine’s hands would slide under that shirt so easily.

Kurt turns on the coffee machine and starts getting his breakfast ready. “Do you want anything?”

“Not yet, thanks,” Blaine responds.

“You can help yourself later if you want something before I’m back,” Kurt says. He looks at Blaine, tilting his head. “I love the curls. You’re not as heavy on the gel as you used to be, thank god, I think you were probably on the brink of causing a worldwide shortage. But the curls are cute. You should rock them.”

Blaine feels himself blush as Kurt turns back around. His eyes zero in on Kurt’s ass. Then his thighs. Kurt was flirting with him. He thinks. So is checking him out okay? Blaine’s the one who said he wanted space, and now all he wants to do is jump Kurt. It’s so unfair of him to change the rules, but he wants this to be organic, if it’s anything. Trusting his gut has never really worked out for him though. He needs to keep analysing and checking himself. Which means he probably needs to say things out loud.

“Sorry, should I put on more clothes or something?” Kurt asks.

Blaine blinks. He hadn’t even realised he was still staring after Kurt had turned to face him again. “It’s fine,” he says. “But if I break out in song, you know why,” he adds, trying to keep his voice light, but he’d take anything as a distraction from this right now. He feels so out of control.

Kurt laughs. “Oh my god, please let that be a thing between us,” he says, pouring himself a coffee. “So long as you don’t mind me getting turned on every time you sing.” He winces. “I’m sorry, that was inappropriate. I shouldn’t say things like that.”

“No,” Blaine dismisses. “We’re grown ups, we can talk about sex. And I’m not celibate, remember? Just making smart choices.”

Kurt nods. “Speaking of smart choices…”

“I don’t know,” Blaine says.

“Fair,” Kurt shrugs. “I’m going to get dressed.”

He leaves, coming back a little later looking perfectly put together. This is the Kurt he shows to the world, the one that investors and buyers trust. Blaine kind of misses the Kurt of yesterday that was just for him.

“One meeting, then I’m right back here with you,” Kurt promises, checking himself in the full length mirror. “Make yourself at home. Seriously.”

“Thanks, I will,” Blaine says. “I’ll see you later.”

“Miss you already,” Kurt calls as he walks out the door.

Blaine can’t help smiling, snuggling into his blankets. He falls back asleep for about an hour, his mind at peace after his interactions with Kurt. He has no idea what he wants or what Kurt wants, but he knows that he loves being near him, and that his want goes further than physical. This isn’t some infatuation and it isn’t lust and six months of not getting any. It’s something real. It’s something he wants to explore.

When he wakes up, he takes a shower and gets dressed, considering himself in the bathroom mirror. Kurt likes his curls. Blaine wants to indulge that. He wants to look nice for him. It’s not an empty tease. It’s an invitation of sorts. Or maybe a tentative query.

He foregoes the gel and styles his damp hair, taming it as best he can but letting the curls dominate the look. He likes it. Kurt always had a perfect eye for what looked good on him.

He’s just settled himself down with a cup of coffee when Kurt comes home.

“Hey,” Kurt greets, discarding his bag as he crosses the apartment. “You look nice,” he appraises.

“Thanks,” Blaine says, trying to hide his preening behind his coffee cup.

“Did you have breakfast yet?” Kurt asks.

“Not yet,” Blaine says.

“We should go for brunch,” Kurt says, sitting down beside him on the couch. “I know a great place, it’s walking distance.”

“Yeah, okay,” Blaine agrees. “But didn’t you already have breakfast?”

“Yes,” Kurt says. “And I also had a croissant during my meeting. Don’t judge me.”

Blaine gives a little laugh, looking at him fondly. “Never.”

Kurt stares at him for a moment and then reaches out, touching the still damp curls. “I really like this look.”

“Yeah, you mentioned it a couple of times,” Blaine says dryly, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Sorry,” Kurt says, pulling his hand away. “They’re cute and you’re cute and I know I’m not supposed to say things like that to you.”

“I don’t mind it, actually,” Blaine admits. More than that, he wants it, and when Kurt is so close to him and so gentle with him, it’s kind of hard to remember why it’s such a bad idea. Maybe it’s not. Blaine is allowed nice things. But if he hurts Kurt again, he doesn’t think he’ll ever get over it.

Kurt continues looking at him for a moment and then gives a nod of his head, getting to his feet. “Let’s go get brunch,” he says decisively.

The food is amazing, and there was nothing even slightly comparable in Lima. Kurt then spends most of the day showing Blaine all his favourite places in his neighbourhood. It gives Blaine a distinct feeling of homesickness. He could never afford to live in this neighbourhood, but the city is where he belongs. He has to stop being afraid of that. The play, Kurt, those are still decisions to make, but he knows he’s going to end up here, one way or another. Maybe he really is ready for his redemption arc.

“Where do you want to get dinner tonight?” Kurt asks. “We can go into Midtown or one of those places in Brooklyn we used to go to. That could be fun”

“Actually,” Blaine says hesitantly. “These past two days have been kind of packed, and I’ve loved it, it’s been great, but maybe we could just get takeout and hang out at your apartment tonight?”

Kurt smiles at him. “That sounds perfect.”

They order Chinese food and eat with chopsticks before giving up and grabbing forks instead. Kurt lets Blaine pick out a movie and his hand lingers on Moulin Rouge for longer than it should before moving on. Instead, he sighs dramatically.

“You have zero superhero movies.”

“Correct,” Kurt agrees.

“And not a single one of these is set in space,” Blaine adds, trying to keep a straight face.

“I refuse to rise to this preposterousness,” Kurt says primly.

Blaine laughs. “Alright, fine.”

He grabs a comedy, romance seems ill-judged right now, and places it into the machine before going back to join Kurt on the couch. They both relax into the cushions as they watch the movie, bodies getting heavier and good posture long since abandoned. Their thighs end up pressed together and it’s so warm and comfortable and intimate and perfect. Blaine stares down at Kurt’s tailored pants that hug his thigh. And then he shifts deliberately so that their torsos are pressed together too, holding his breath as he waits to see what happens.

Kurt lifts his arm up and Blaine thinks he’s about to be pushed away, but instead Kurt wraps it around Blaine’s shoulders, opening up a space for him to move into. Blaine does, melding himself to Kurt’s side, and he’s fairly sure neither of them are watching the movie now. Kurt’s fingertips start to draw little patterns absently on Blaine’s exposed bicep and it vibrates throughout his whole body, making his breath catch and his eyes roll back. It’s been so long since he’s been touched, and even longer since he’s been touched like this. He shudders.

“Do you need me to stop?” Kurt asks.

“Probably,” Blaine admits. “But don’t.”

Kurt pulls his arm back and Blaine tries his best not to whine, even though he wants to burst into tears. He feels so humiliated.

“How about this instead?” Kurt says. He reaches down, taking hold of Blaine’s hand in his and twining their fingers together.

Blaine looks down at their joined hands, contentment washing over him. “I like that.”

“I like that too,” Kurt says.

They shift closer again, sides pressed together, and Blaine snuggles in, resting his head down on Kurt’s shoulder. He wants him so badly, but right now he just wants this. This intimacy. This affection. Does that make him a cocktease? Is he leading Kurt on? He feels like this is the most honest they’ve been with each other all weekend though.

When the movie ends, neither of them moves. Their hands are sweaty where they’re still joined together, but it didn’t seem to occur to either of them to let go. That wasn’t an option. Blaine doesn’t think he’s felt this content in a long time.

“So,” Kurt says. Blaine lifts his head, looking at him. “You can come sleep in my bed with me if you want. No funny business, I promise.”

Blaine considers him for a moment. This evening has been so perfect. But it’s been more chaste than when they were in high school. “What are we?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” Kurt says honestly. “Not nothing.”

Blaine nods. “Maybe I should sleep on the couch.”

“Okay,” Kurt agrees with a smile. He gives Blaine’s hand a squeeze before letting go, going to fetch the bedding for him.

The next morning, they say goodbye in Kurt’s apartment before Kurt has to go to work. They hug long and hard, their bodies pressed so closely together. Blaine feels Kurt’s lips brush against his temple, but he’s not sure if he’s supposed to. Neither of them mention it.

During the flight back to Lima, Blaine lets his fantasy world be real. He’s outside of space and time there, up in the air, the usual rules don’t apply. And maybe fantasy and idealisation are the drugs he’s been trying to kick at his group, in every part of his life, but Kurt held his hand, Kurt invited him into his bed, Kurt got a director to watch him sing. Those things are real. Maybe the things he’s imagining could come next are real too.

When he touches down in Ohio, the world seems a little duller, and Blaine puts his fanciful thoughts away. When he turns his phone back on though, he has a text from Kurt. _That part is yours if you want it. I knew he’d love you. Call me later x_ And then there’s a string of fireworks and love hearts. The inside of Blaine’s head feel like white noise.

He has a shift at the garage that afternoon and he tries to get back into the swing of things, but it feels so painfully mundane. He’s known that for a long time, but the reality of it hits him now. He might be scared of the possibilities that exist in New York, but if he stays here much longer, he feels like he might throw away everything he’s worked for just to feel something.

“Hey.”

Blaine startles, trying to straighten up from under the hood of the car too quickly and banging his head on it. “Ow,” he complains, rubbing at the sore spot.

Burt chuckles beside him. “Late night in the city?”

“No, we stayed in,” Blaine says. He looks at Burt, feeling everything start to bubble over. “Kurt tricked me into auditioning for an off-Broadway musical.”

“How do you trick someone into auditioning for a musical?” Burt asks, screwing his face up in confusion.

“Your son is a wily little shit,” Blaine says dryly.

Burt laughs at that. “No arguments here.”

Blaine sighs, putting the wrench he’s holding down and turning to fully face Burt. “They offered me the part,” he says. “Kurt thinks I should take it.”

“What do you think?” Burt asks.

“I’m so scared to want anything,” Blaine admits.

“You don’t have to want it,” Burt says. “You already have it, right?”

“I’m not just talking about the musical,” Blaine says, feeling himself flush at the admission.

“Yeah, neither am I,” Burt says pointedly.

Blaine feels tears filling his eyes. Hearing it from someone as straightforward and anti-bullshit as Burt Hummel makes it feel real. He knows all the hard truths of life and he doesn’t shy away from them. Blaine trusts him.

“Go home,” Burt tells him. “Get the ball rolling on this.”

“Now?” Blaine asks. “But I’m…” He gestures to the car he’s working on.

“Yeah, maybe if you stare at it for a few more hours it will fix itself,” Burt says sarcastically. “Or you can just go and let one of the other guys actually work on it.”

Blaine hesitates. “Are you sure?”

“You’re done here,” Burt says. “I was never going to make you work your two weeks’ notice. Go start the rest of your life, Blaine. You can’t put it off forever.”

Blaine smiles, even as he tears up again, his chest tight with nerves and excitement. He launches himself at Burt, hugging him tight. “Thank you,” he says. “Thank you so much. For everything. You have no idea how much it’s meant to me. You are the last person who should have been nice to me after everything with Kurt…”

“Hey,” Burt cuts him off, pushing him back to look at him. “You’re a good kid. And you and Kurt has never been one-sided, whatever was going on between you. You’re both so goddamn dramatic. Just take care of each other out there, alright?”

Blaine nods. “I promise.”

Burt smiles at him and gives him another quick hug. “Alright. Now get out of here.”

As soon as Blaine gets back to his apartment, he calls Kurt, even though he’s probably working and maybe he should text first or something. But Kurt picks up straight away so Blaine guesses it’s cool.

“I want the part,” Blaine blurts out.

He can hear the amusement in Kurt’s voice. “And hello to you too.”

“Kurt,” Blaine whines. He is too wound up for adorable banter right now.

“The director’s name is Dylan Perez,” Kurt says. “I’m going to send you his details.”

“Thank you,” Blaine says, his mind still reeling.

“This is so exciting,” Kurt says. “I’m so happy for you. This is going to be perfect. Do you need help apartment hunting? You could come stay with me again and we could do it together.”

“Let’s slow down, I don’t even know for sure if he’s going to give me the part,” Blaine says.

“Trust me, he’s giving you the part,” Kurt says. “But I’m being overenthusiastic again and smothering you so I’m going to back off. You do your thing. You know where I am.”

“I do,” Blaine agrees, finally stilling, his nervous energy dropping away for a moment. “I can’t wait to be close to you again. All the time.”

“Same,” Kurt says. “Now call Dylan.”

“On it,” Blaine says decisively. “I’m so glad you’re my best friend. Just don’t tell Sam that I said that.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” Kurt says.

Blaine gets the text with Dylan’s information and his heart beats fast and hard in his chest. It doesn’t feel like nerves now though. It’s excitement. It’s a second chance he never thought he was going to get. He dials the number.

“Hello?”

“Hello,” Blaine says. “This is Blaine Anderson for Dylan Perez. He should be expecting me.”

“I am,” Dylan replies. “Kurt gave you my personal number. I told him to.”

“Oh,” Blaine says. “Mr Perez, I just wanted to say thank you for this opportunity. I would be honoured to come in for a proper audition for your musical if that was something you’d be interested in.”

“I’m not interested in that,” Dylan says offhandedly. Blaine’s heart sinks. “I saw you sing, and Kurt gave me a copy of your showreel.”

Blaine frowns. “I don’t have a showreel.”

“Well, then you have a really amazing friend,” Dylan says. “Either way, I’m sold.”

Blaine blinks. “Really?” He clears his throat. “Uh, would you like me to come in for a chemistry read or…”

“You’re the first person I’m casting,” Dylan says. “They can do a chemistry read with you.”

“Thank you so much, Mr Perez,” Blaine says a little breathlessly. “I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”

“Call me Dylan,” he says. “I’m going to send you over some pages so you can get acquainted with your character. Let me know when you can be in New York, I have plenty for you to do on this project if you’re up for it.”

“Absolutely,” Blaine says, grinning so wide his cheeks hurt.

He grabs Sam’s laptop, which has kind of been fair game for him since he moved in here, sitting down on the couch. Dylan sends him the pages and a note that says he’d like him for the role of Alex. He’s a darkly comic character which Blaine likes because he doesn’t think romantic lead would be the right fit for him at this point in his life. Instead, he’s pegged as the loyal best friend who isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty. It looks like it will give him a good amount of stage time and let him show what he’s capable of with some good dramatic scenes. He can’t wait to get out there.

He starts to think about rehearsal spaces and theatres. Where should he look for an apartment? He doesn’t want to live in his old neighbourhood, and he definitely doesn’t want to be anywhere near where he used to work. He doesn’t need much though, just a small space so he can keep saving money. He doesn’t have a lot to take with him. He left New York with all the things that mattered in one bag and he hasn’t acquired much while he’s been here. He looks up at the photos spread over the shelves in mismatched frames. He needs to tell Sam he’s leaving. That’s his least favourite thing about going back to New York.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blaine sings [Heartbeat Song by Kelly Clarkson](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d4_6N-k5VS4)


	7. Chapter 7

Blaine decides he’s going to cook a nice dinner for Sam. A token of his appreciation. And maybe something to soften the blow a little. But Sam will be fine, Sam is where he wants to be. He’s home. That’s the feeling that Blaine is looking for. He should go to his parents’ house, get more of his things, set up his own home for real this time. Ever since he left Lima at 18, he’s felt like he was wandering. He’s ready to set down roots.

Dinner is almost ready when Sam gets home. He walks into the kitchen and raises his eyebrows.

“I thought you were working late today.”

“Burt let me go,” Blaine says. “Like, forever.”

“He fired you?” Sam asks.

“No,” Blaine says. “I got a new job.” He can’t keep the grin off his face any longer. “I’m going back to New York. I got a part in an off-Broadway musical.”

“Oh my god, that’s amazing, Blaine,” Sam says, eyes wide and happy. He pulls him into an overly enthusiastic hug. “I didn’t even know you were going out there to audition.”

“Neither did I,” Blaine responds. “It’s a long story, but basically, Kurt.”

Sam nods like that makes perfect sense. “So, you and he are…” He makes a circle with the fingers of his left hand and moves a finger from his right hand in and out of it. “Or is it…” He pushes the ends of both of his pointer fingers together. “How does that work?”

“I’m not explaining gay sex to you, Sam,” Blaine says.

“I’ll google it later,” Sam shrugs.

“But no, Kurt and I are not… together,” Blaine says. “Right now. We both want to be. And some stuff almost happened. It probably could have done if we’d let it. I think that’s a conversation we need to have.” He takes the dinner out of the oven and turns to look at Sam who is sat at the kitchen table, doing something on his phone. Blaine watches him warily. “You’re not googling it now, are now?”

“What?” Sam asks, looking up at him. “No.”

He shakes his head, putting his phone away. A few seconds later, Blaine’s own phone buzzes in his pocket he pulls it out, looking at the notification and frowning at it. It’s a money transfer from Sam. An insanely high money transfer.

“What the hell is this?”

“That’s all the rent you’ve paid me since you moved in,” Sam says matter-of-factly.

“Sam, I know you’re kind of new to this, but when a roommate moves out, you don’t give them all of their rent back,” Blaine says, giving him an incredulous look.

“You’re not my roommate, you’re my friend,” Sam says. “And I was only ever looking after that money for you. I can afford rent on this place on my own. Lima’s not expensive and I get a decent salary. But I knew that, A, if I said you could live here for free you never would’ve taken me up on it and, B, I knew this was just a place for you to breathe and regroup. You were always going on to bigger brighter things. So I helped you save up for when the time came. And now you’re ready, so I’m giving it back to you.”

Blaine stares at him. “I take back everything I said, you’re my best friend.”

“When did you say I wasn’t your best friend?” Sam asks, looking outraged. “Who else would be your best friend?”

“Nobody,” Blaine dismisses. “Anyway, I made dinner.”

“Now that I’m going to miss,” Sam says. “I might have to actually get serious with a girl to fill that gap in my life.”

“Or you could just learn to cook,” Blaine says, bringing over the food.

“That sounds like a lot of work,” Sam says with a crinkle of his nose before grabbing his fork and digging in.

Blaine starts looking for apartments the next day. He has more money to play with thanks to Sam, but he doesn’t set his sights any higher than getting something practical. He’s setting up the rest of his life, he reminds himself. His impulsivity has always gotten him into trouble. He’s not going to make the same mistakes again. Maybe he’ll make all different ones, he thinks wryly.

He finds a studio apartment with a pull-out couch. The place looks clean, the building has all new amenities and it’s in a good neighbourhood. That’s more than enough for him right now. He’s grateful to have it, and what he saves in rent he can put towards the rest of his future. He decides that part of that is definitely going to be therapy. The support group, and the people who love him, have given him the strength to be able to fight his demons one on one. He’s not going to stop going to meetings though. He wants that one year chip. He hears it’s a bronze one. So versatile.

When he attends his last meeting in Lima, he tells them all about his plans, about his hopes and his fears and what he’s learned from them all. Mostly he learnt that he wasn’t alone. That he wasn’t irreparably broken. Every story they told him was such a gift because it made him see himself a little bit more clearly, see where the motivation for all these wrong things came from, recognise his own responsibility to get back up and make it right.

He gets lots of hugs and well wishes at the end of the night. Aiden is the last to approach him. If Blaine thought the rest of it was emotional, this one might shatter him. He doesn’t have the words to express how grateful he is for everything Aiden has done for him.

“When you get there, find yourself a meeting,” Aiden says.

“Already have,” Blaine assures him. “I found the nearest one to where I’ll be living and then two others, in case I don’t gel with the first one or I need a little extra support.”

Aiden nods, looking proud. “You’re going to be fine.”

“Thank you,” Blaine says earnestly. That reassurance means everything coming from him.

“You can still call me though,” Aiden says. “Until you find yourself a new sponsor. Or after too, I’m always here to talk you down from late night terrible decisions.”

Blaine gives a little laugh. “I’m going to start going to bed earlier.”

“I think that would serve you well,” Aiden agrees.

“But I will call,” Blaine says. “You’ll always be my first call.”

Aiden nods, and Blaine gets the impression he’s too choked up to respond. They hug, tight and slightly fierce, and then Blaine feels like he’s taking his first steps on his own two feet.

The night before he flies out to New York, he goes to his parents’ house for dinner. His mom is proud and sad and fusses him in the way that tells Blaine she’s anxious. His father has so far been noncommittal. Blaine talks about the discussions he’s had with Dylan about the play, his character, the auditions that have been running in New York to find the rest of the cast. His mother nods along. His father looks thoughtful, but attentive at least. Blaine thinks that’s a good thing.

“So,” his dad says when Blaine finally pauses for breath. “Kurt. Again.”

Blaine tries very hard not to roll his eyes. “I’m going to New York for the play, dad.”

His dad nods. “But, still,” he says. “Kurt.”

“Is there a question there?” Blaine asks.

His dad shrugs. “Your eyes always had a different light in them whenever he was around. No matter how happy you were, before him, I never saw that look. And I hadn’t seen it since you came back. Until now.”

Blaine looks at him dad carefully. He’s still not sure what he’s saying.

“You always looked so little next to Cooper,” his father continues. Blaine frowns. Now he really has no idea where this is going. “You used to cry whenever you couldn’t keep up with him.”

Blaine sighs, feeling defeated. “Yeah, I know, I needed to man up.”

“No,” his father says, the word holding so much conviction that Blaine can’t help but meet his gaze and listen a little more carefully. “We should have noticed how you took criticism. We should have paid a little more attention to you. Sometimes I just wonder if you were ever really happy before you met Kurt.”

“I was happy, dad,” Blaine says. “Yeah, Cooper could be a pain, but big brothers are always a pain. I had a lot of things to be happy about.”

“Then, when you were 13, you told us you were gay,” his father says.

Blaine swallows uncomfortably, feeling shame clinging to him that he knows he doesn’t deserve.

“And I just thought, well, this is it, everything is going to be hard and awful for him from here on out,” his dad says. “He’s going to get judged. He’s going to get side-lined. He won’t get a fair shot at anything. He’ll never be safe. I have done nothing but worry about you since that day.”

Blaine feels like he’s been punched in the gut. All this time he thought his father was ashamed of him. He was just scared. Maybe he understood more than Blaine thought.

“An _I love you_ would have done,” he says lightly because he’s not sure how to tackle this. His dad doesn’t look amused. “You don’t have to worry about me,” Blaine insists.

“You were queer bashed!” his father spits out. “You could’ve been killed.”

Blaine rubs a hand over his face. He doesn’t want to relive that. He hates the fact that his parents have to relive it too. It happened to all of them, even if he was the one who got hurt.

“What happened in New York?” his dad asks.

“Nothing good,” Blaine admits. “But none of that had anything to do with being gay.”

“The worst thing I have to worry about with Cooper is that he’s going to knock some girl up or join a pyramid scheme,” his dad says. “With you, it never stops. And I know that’s not your fault, it’s just not what I wanted for you. For life to be this hard. And then I look back to when you were a little kid and I think maybe you were always hurting.”

“I wasn’t,” Blaine says, shaking his head. “I just wanted to be loved. And maybe that was because I knew a lot of the world would never love me. I didn’t understand it back then, but I knew I was different, somehow. But I was happy. You guys gave me a good childhood. None of this is on you.”

“You’re loved here,” his father says.

“Very loved,” his mother adds, reaching over to squeeze his hand.

“Thanks,” Blaine says. It’s the only thing he can get out before his voice cracks.

He goes up to his bedroom after dinner for one last time. He’s not in a position to take a lot with him, his apartment isn’t big enough for that and he knows it’s still a stepping stone. But he wants to take something. He wants to signify that he’s setting up a home, so he needs to take a part of this home with him.

He looks over his shelves, his dresser, his old photographs. Everything has a story. It seems so strange that all these little pieces can be put together to create him. He’s more than the sum of his parts though. He has to remember that. This is where he was made, but he’s not done yet.

His eyes fall on the cameras on top of the bookcase. It was a hobby he loved for a while. When he was lonely. When he’d just come out and he didn’t always feel like he could look the world in the eye. He’s proud now, even though he appreciates the dangers that his dad worries about. He doesn’t feel the need to hide. But his life is something worth documenting and he wants something to inspire him to slow down and appreciate the moments, the journey. Why shouldn’t his new story be illustrated?

“You’re looting the place now?” his dad asks when he comes down the stairs with it.

“Yeah, dad, I’m looting my own possessions,” Blaine responds.

His dad looks at the camera in his hands. “You always had a good eye with that thing.”

“Thanks,” Blaine says.

They hug and it feels like the most complete hug they’ve ever shared. It feels honest and real and like maybe they’re speaking the same language for once. When they pull apart, his mother clings to him.

“You need to call me once a week,” she says. “Or at least text me. You used to go months without me knowing what was going on with you.”

“That’s because I didn’t want you to know,” Blaine admits. “But it’s different this time. _I’m_ different this time.”

His mom pulls away, grasping his face in her hands. “And you are going to get us tickets to your opening night.”

Blaine nods. “Absolutely. I’ll make you proud.”

“You already do,” she says, tugging him in to kiss his cheek before finally releasing him.

Getting the keys to his new apartment makes him feel like such a grown-up. It’s not that he’s never lived alone before, but he feels competent this time, he feels in control. He’s not doing it out of necessity or because he has no one in his life. He’s doing it because he wants to, and that fact makes him feel so empowered.

The first thing he does is unpack all his bags and find a place for everything. He wants it to look and feel like his. He wants to come back here and feel like he’s home. Because he is.

He’s organising his closet when he gets a call and he already knows who it will be, but he still smiles when he sees Kurt’s name. And the scarf emoji. “Hey.”

“I want to cook you dinner,” Kurt says. “Oh, also, how was your flight? That bit should have come first.”

“My flight was fine,” Blaine says, amused. “And dinner sounds nice.”

“Fantastic,” Kurt says. “Just pick a day. Except Tuesday. I have a thing Tuesday.”

“A thing,” Blaine repeats. “That sounds important.”

“More like pretentious,” Kurt says. “But needs must in this business. I’m going to the market today so I’ll pick some things up. You can come by tonight if you don’t want to worry about getting something in while you settle into your new place. But I am not being pushy and smothering you. Your call.”

Blaine laughs. “I would love to come over tonight, Kurt,” he says. “And I appreciate the invitation. Thank you.”

“Shall we say seven?” Kurt asks.

“Seven,” Blaine agrees. “It’s a date.”

“Perfect,” Kurt says.

That afternoon, Blaine goes down to the rehearsal space for the first time to meet with his director and one of the cast. He navigates his way through a maze of corridors to find a room with the name of the play written in sharpie on a piece of paper and haphazardly taped to the door. Maybe the unprofessionalism should make him wary, but it actually puts him at ease. He couldn’t handle trying to live up to perfection right now.

He steps into the room and sees a blond girl practicing a dance routine in front of a mirrored wall. She spots him and smiles, finishing with a flourish.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” Blaine returns. “I’m looking for Dylan Perez.”

“Ah,” a voice says from across the room. “Blaine Anderson has decided to grace us with his presence.” He’s tall and graceful and could probably be a dancer himself. He’s not what Blaine was expecting but he recognises the voice well enough.

“I’m sorry, am I late?” Blaine asks, trying not to lose his confidence.

“No,” the girl says, walking over to join him. “Don’t worry, you get used to him. I’m Jessica, I’m playing Flo.”

“Blaine,” he responds, shaking her outstretched hand. “I’m playing Alex.”

“We have some juicy scenes together,” Jessica says, a playful twinkle in her eye. She doesn’t mean romantic or sexual. She means they’re at each other’s throats. Judging by the look on her face, Blaine can already tell this is going to be a lot of fun.

“Right,” Dylan says. “Now you can both prove to me that I was right to hire you without putting you together for a chemistry read first.”

The afternoon is part audition, part rehearsal and part workshop. Dylan has them play through one of their more dramatic scenes a couple of times and then he gives them an opportunity to play with their characters, get comfortable with them. Blaine likes the process and he finds that he trusts this guy, maybe because of how much he clearly trusts them. He’s happy for them to take hold of the characters and make them their own, argue for their motivations and delve into their hopes and dreams. It’s a collaborative process as the three of them sit around in the big space, and it feels like they’re building something really special from the ground up.

Blaine is buzzing by the time he gets home. He takes a shower and then stands in his towel, spinning his six month chip over his fingers again and again as he contemplates his closet. Match or contrast? In the end he just goes with something that fits him well and makes him look good. He doesn’t gel his hair, styling the curls gently. As he looks in the mirror, sliding the chip into his pocket, he feels so perfectly like himself. He lets himself appreciate that for a moment, and then he heads for the subway so Kurt can appreciate it too.

Kurt greets him with a smile and a hug before ushering him into the apartment. The lighting is down low and the table is set with fancy plate settings and wine glasses and a couple of candles. It’s not undeniably romantic, but it’s not very platonic either.

“This is fancy,” Blaine says.

“That’s me,” Kurt responds as he walks back to the kitchen. “Fancy.”

“It’s nice,” Blaine says. “Thanks for this. It’s good to not have to worry about cooking my first night here. I haven’t even had chance to get food yet.”

Kurt pours wine into both glasses, holding one out to Blaine. He accepts it, taking a sip.

“How was rehearsal?” Kurt asks.

“Yeah, I really enjoyed it,” Blaine says. “I’m not sure I’d call it rehearsal yet, we need a full cast first, but the actress I met today, Jessica, she’s really nice and we played pretty well off each other. Dylan has narrowed down his choices for some of the other roles so we’re going to do some chemistry reads later this week. He seems to be really open to our input.”

“He comes from an improv background,” Kurt says, plating up the food. It smells so good. “He follows the _yes, and_ philosophy.”

“I could use a little of that in my life,” Blaine says.

Kurt brings the plates over to the table and they sit down across from each other. Kurt picks up his wineglass, holding it up in a toast. “To saying yes.”

“Yes, and,” Blaine corrects, clinking their glasses together. They both take a sip, smiling at one another.

“I love seeing you this confident,” Kurt says. “And happy. You have my favourite smile ever.”

Blaine drops his eyes down, feeling himself blush.

“Tell me everything about this play,” Kurt prompts.

Blaine looks up at him, unable to keep the grin off his face. “Okay.”

He talks through most of dinner and Kurt barely gets a word in but he looks so content, sitting there smiling at Blaine as he talks endlessly about his character and the things he’s most looking forward to about getting back on the stage. Kurt is such an attentive listener. It makes Blaine feel so cared for.

Over dessert, they finally change the subject and Kurt talks about work and the partnerships he’s chasing and Blaine just sits there, beaming with pride. They have balance, they support each other, they respect each other. It’s as close to a perfect fit as Blaine has ever seen.

Blaine knows this is a conversation they need to have, but he wasn’t sure if he was going to go here tonight. It scares him, wanting Kurt as badly as he does. It scares him to take the chance and still fail, even after all the hard work he’s done. It scares him that it could be too soon and he’s just setting himself up to fail. It scares him that maybe Kurt doesn’t even want him like that, despite the candles and the way he’s looked at Blaine with utter adoration all night. It scares him to let this chance pass him by. It scares him to let the communication break down and end up in some tangled mess down the line that they can never escape from.

“Can I say some things?” he asks as they finish dessert.

“Sure,” Kurt says. “Always.”

“I’m not perfect,” Blaine begins.

“Am I supposed to offer the counter argument?” Kurt asks. “Because I have plenty of examples.”

“Can you just listen?” Blaine asks, trying not to sound frustrated. Kurt is being adorable. Somehow that doesn’t make this easier though.

Kurt nods, looking more serious. “I’m sorry. Go on.”

“I love you,” Blaine says. He’s kind of surprised to hear the words come out of his mouth. It’s not that he didn’t know, but he didn’t expect saying it to be that easy. It feels like a double-edged sword. “I’m in love with you,” he continues. Nothing but honesty. Kurt has to be given the opportunity to make an informed decision, even if Blaine risks losing it all. “I want to be with you so badly but I don’t want to get caught up in an idealised version of you or an idealised version of what we have or an idealised version of what you owe me if you’re my boyfriend. I’m terrified I’m going to mess it up all over again.”

Kurt reaches across the table to take hold of his hand. “You and I are soulmates,” he says. “I truly believe that. We go together. I feel like we were made out of the same star and our atoms are just trying to get back to each other. Do you know what I mean?”

“Completely,” Blaine says, staring dumbly at him.

“I don’t know how the story ends,” Kurt says. “But I love you. And I’m in love with you. And now I trust you. That was the part that was missing, remember?”

Blaine nods, head falling down in shame.

“Hey, no, none of that,” Kurt says, squeezing Blaine’s hand. “You look at me while I’m spilling my heart out, Blaine Anderson.”

Blaine smiles despite himself, meeting Kurt’s eyes. He sees so much love and pure protectiveness there.

“I think you’re worth the risk that we end up in a supernova all over again,” Kurt says. “I _know_ you are. You put yourself and your life back together. I would be honoured if you’d let me be a part of that.”

Blaine stares at him. “I don’t understand what’s happening. I thought I would need to convince you.”

Kurt rubs his thumb over Blaine’s knuckles. “You already did,” he says. “And I made it pretty clear that I was game if you were. If you’re ready, if this is what you want, I’m in. Although, if you’d like to convince me, I am all for being swept off my feet.”

Blaine smiles at him, reaching his other hand across the table to clutch at Kurt’s. “You are kind and you are patient and you are just so full of love,” he says. “But you’re fierce and you’re determined and you have always been such an inspiration for me, even when you thought I was saving you. You were the one who had courage. I just reminded you.”

“Alright, you’re making me blush,” Kurt says. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but this might be enough declarations of love for one night.”

“Wait,” Blaine says, gripping his hand a little tighter. “There’s one more thing though. Because yes we love each other and we’re sappy and we’re meant to be together. But I’m still me. Still a sex and love addict. And I want this and I want you and I am ready. With you, I’m ready. But you need to understand what that means. I’m going to screw up. I’m going to get clingy and irrational. I’m going to get scared when things aren’t perfect, because nothing is ever always perfect, and I’m going to worry that you don’t love me and that I’m not worth anything and become convinced that I should push you away and burn it all to the ground. And that won’t be your fault. That’s my brain’s fault. I have my group and I found a therapist and I’m going to keep working on all of this. But I’m going to need you to call me out. You have to hold me accountable when I do these destructive things. And that’s a lot to ask of somebody. That’s probably too much to ask of somebody.”

“I got you,” Kurt says simply. “I can’t fight this for you. I’ve been reading about it a lot and it’s kind of between you and your addiction. But you I got. I’m going to tell you when it’s winning and I’m going to make sure you have the weapons to fight it. The rest is kind of up to you.”

Blaine nods, feeling himself tear up. Kurt is his ally. And he feels like maybe, now, after all this time, his dad is too. That’s something he wants to live up to, but it gives him strength rather being a stick to beat himself with. He has to reframe it. He has to give himself permission to move on.

“So,” Kurt says, fingers sliding to Blaine’s wrist, brushing over his skin. “Would it be okay if I kissed you maybe?”

“God, yes,” Blaine says, getting to his feet without letting go of Kurt’s hand and pulling him in.

Kurt grins against him as their lips meet but as Blaine kisses him, he melts into it with a sigh, tilting his head. It’s somehow both fierce and tentative all at once. They want this, Blaine can feel it with the way their hands are clenched together between them, the firm insistence of their mouths pressed together like they might not get another chance. But it’s not gratuitous. It’s filled with love and all the things that have been shared and said out loud for the first time over the last year. It’s the most exposed Blaine has ever felt, all from one little kiss that’s hardly anything, but it’s _everything_.

It grows in increments, seeking rather than demanding, learning new permissions. Their lips part gently, fitting together, catching on one another. It makes Blaine’s hair stand on end in the most wonderful way. Kurt pulls one of his hands away, placing on Blaine’s cheek to cradle his face, and Blaine pushes into it, clutching at Kurt’s waist with his own hand as he makes a little noise in his throat, leaning in further. Their chests are pressed together, swaying into one another, but there’s still space between their hips, and Blaine is so glad to be standing where it’s not quite so easy to thrust against him, even if he is dizzy and disorientated. He wants to enjoy this, wants to stay in this one moment without getting caught up in all that needy, sexy, dirty stuff.

Blaine licks his way just inside Kurt’s mouth, hooking his tongue behind his upper lip, sliding across that smooth wetness that feels like such a promise. He groans and Kurt parts his lips properly, sliding his tongue into Blaine’s mouth. Blaine shivers, hand clenching into a fist in Kurt’s doubtlessly expensive shirt, kissing him back with just as much intensity. He can feel sweat beading on his skin, can feel his heart racing and his lungs burning, but he never wants to stop. Their tongues slide together, those open-mouthed, uninhibited, saliva exchanging kisses. No one’s kissed Blaine like this in so long, like they wanted more than just his body. Blaine thinks maybe no one’s ever kissed him like this. No one but Kurt.

When they finally pull away, all dragging lips and breathy moans and strands of saliva, Blaine rests his forehead against Kurt’s, closing his eyes and just trying to remember how to breathe. He’s panting and he’s shaking and he doesn’t think he’s felt this incredible in a long time.

“Wow,” he breathes.

“Yeah,” Kurt agrees, wrapping his arms around Blaine but respecting the careful distance that’s between their bodies.

Blaine opens his eyes but he doesn’t move back. “You turn me on so much it’s _ridiculous._ ”

Kurt gives a soft little laugh. “Likewise.”

“That was amazing,” Blaine says. “And sincere apologies for being a cocktease, but that’s kind of my limit for tonight.”

“You’re not teasing, you’re being perfectly upfront,” Kurt says. “And that got more heated than I was expecting. I thought maybe tonight we’d just watch a movie or something? And then if we ended up cuddling on the couch, so be it.”

Blaine smiles, finally pulling back to look at him properly. “I’d like that.”

“But you have to tell me if I do anything that makes you uncomfortable,” Kurt says. “Boundaries.”

Blaine nods. “Okay, but you have to do the same for me,” he says. “It’s entirely reasonable to not want to half-way have sex and then get left high and dry. I don’t want to do that to you. I would hate myself if I did that to you.”

“I promise,” Kurt says. “Communication. We’re going to have lots of adult conversations.”

Blaine drapes his arms over Kurt’s shoulders. “Well that sounds boring.”

“No,” Kurt says. “Because adult conversations lead to other adult things.” He brushes his lips against Blaine’s, Blaine’s eyes fluttering closed with it. “Now, how about that movie?”

“And the cuddling,” Blaine reminds him.

He lets Kurt pick, he doesn’t really care what they watch, he feels like he’s walking on air. They cuddle together on the couch, intimate but appropriate and oh so natural feeling. They’re such a perfect fit. Kurt’s fingers play through Blaine’s loose curls, tickling at his scalp and making him feel all kinds of wonderful.

“I love that,” he says softly.

“I love you,” Kurt says.

Blaine smiles, leaning more heavily into him. “I love you too.”

The next day, Blaine goes his first meeting at the SLAA group a couple of blocks from his apartment. He’s nervous like it’s his first time again, stepping into a room of strangers and having to work up the courage and trust to spill his deepest, darkest secrets. And he has a boyfriend. Can he go to these meetings if he has a boyfriend? They don’t know his history, he’s just some guy with a boyfriend who’s invading their safe space. Does he really deserve this support if he’s in a relationship? It feels kind of like throwing it right back in their faces. But he knows that everyone’s journey is different, and these people must know that too.

He sits down in the circle, sipping at the coffee that is equally as terrible as it was in Lima. There’s something sort of comforting about that fact. The facilitator starts the meeting and Blaine listens, tries to pick up names and understand stories. He’s a witness for these people like they are for him. He feels a responsibility to them.

When it’s his turn to speak, he sits up a little straighter, clearing his throat. “Hi,” he says. “I’m Blaine, I’m new here but not new to this. I was in a group in Ohio while I was living there but I just moved back to New York.” He reaches into his pocket, pulling out his chip. “I got my six month chip a couple of weeks back. I really like the chips. They help me. I started counting from celibacy, I had to reset once because I messed up, but I don’t think celibacy is my measure anymore. I’m not having sex and I don’t think I will be doing for a while, but it doesn’t feel so desperately all or nothing to me anymore. I put myself in a lot of dangerous situations and bad places because I just needed that feeling. I needed someone’s hands on my body to feel real and vital and wanted. I was substituting it for love because I felt unloveable. I’ve always kind of felt like that, since I was a kid. I had this chat with my dad actually just before I came out here. Me and my dad don’t talk about things like that. Me and my dad haven’t talked about much of anything since I came out. As gay. I’m gay. So I thought it would be harder to find love. But that doesn’t really explain it because even when I had love, I firebombed it. It was never enough. I struggle a lot with ideology and fantasies of perfection and I feel like if things don’t match up with some fairytale in my head then I must be failing and then I cheat because that’s someone wanting me, or I cling too hard because I want to prove myself worthy, or I just push them away because then it’s their fault, they’re the problem, they did it wrong, not me.”

He takes a breath, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m sorry, you didn’t ask for my life story,” he says. But when he realises the words that have come out of his mouth, they’re explanations of who he is and what he’s facing. They’re not hopeless questions and broken sobs and confusion like in the first meeting he went to in Lima. He knows these things about himself. Knowing is half of the battle. You can’t fight what you can’t see.

He turns his chip over in his hand. “I have a boyfriend,” he says. “Which probably sounds ridiculous and maybe it is. He’s not new though. We’ve had a journey together. And he knows what he’s getting into. I don’t keep secrets from him, not like before. He came to a meeting with me at my old group. He knows all the bad parts as well as the good parts and he still wanted me. And there’s only a tiny part of my brain that tells me I don’t deserve that. That voice used to scream. I know I have a long way to go but I am committed to recovery. For me. That’s the part that matters. I don’t believe in happy ever afters anymore. It takes work. Everything takes work. And it’s exhausting. But it’s something that’s worth putting my energy into. So I’m here. And I’m going to keep being here. And I’m going to get that one year chip, no matter what happens with Kurt. He doesn’t define my recovery. I do. If I keep coming to meetings and I keep trying and I keep not fucking up, that’s the programme, right?”

“I’m married,” a woman across the circle says. “I met him while I was in recovery. I didn’t think that was an option for me anymore. But we’ve been married for two years now and we have a healthy sexual relationship. I’m not giving any of my chips back.” She smiles at Blaine and he can’t help but smile back.

“Thanks.”

He gets her number at the end of the meeting. She seems like she would understand some of the anxieties and questions he’s doubtlessly going to have while he figures out what his life is now. It’s so heartening to hear that someone else has made this work. Blaine is not about to start thinking about wedding bells and healthy sexual relationships yet though. He and Kurt have a long, long way to go. He feels like he can give himself permission to be excited about the journey now though.

Blaine’s schedule is packed, but every part of it feels like it’s healing something inside him. He’s not treading water, just trying to keep himself above the surface anymore. He’s rebuilding in a way that feels meaningful.

On Monday nights he has his support group, and then on Thursday mornings he has his individual therapy sessions with a therapist who’s familiar with addiction. Blaine really likes the guy, he never feels like he’s judging Blaine and that helps him open up and really dig the poison out in a way that feels helpful instead of violent.

His first week in New York, they hold the final auditions for the play and Dylan puts his cast together. They meet most days at the rehearsal space. That first table read all together, Blaine feels like they have something really special here. Dylan is very enthusiastic about them improvising as their characters and workshopping certain scenes to make the emotions feel more real. It’s not a way Blaine is used to working, but he likes the ownership it gives him over his character. It helps the cast build bonds and trust each other as well. He ends most rehearsals exhausted but elated.

He calls his parents every Sunday and usually talks to Sam or Tina every other night. They’re connections that he knows he doesn’t want to lose again, and it never feels like a chore. Distance is no reason to not be in their lives.

And then there’s Kurt who seems to take up every other second of Blaine’s time, and Blaine couldn’t be happier about it. They’ll meet for breakfast before Blaine has to go to rehearsal, or Blaine will take Kurt lunch at his office because sometimes he forgets to eat when he doesn’t. They stay in and wear sweats and lounge on Kurt’s couch with takeaway. They meet up with Rachel and Jesse for impromptu dinner parties. Rachel is now sporting an impressive diamond on her finger and asked Kurt to be her maid of honour. Blaine is fairly sure there should be an amended title for that role, but Kurt is over the moon and accepts in a heartbeat. Blaine keeps himself out of the wedding fever.

And they go on dates. Real dates. They go to fancy restaurants and the theatre and dancing at clubs where Kurt is so comfortable in his own skin in a way Blaine has never seen before and wants to see a lot more of. That’s on the backburner for now though. At least they’re trying to keep it there. It’s back to high school rules for the third time in their lives. Making out only, fully clothed, no hands below the waist. It’s frustrating and wonderful all at once.

They’re on Kurt’s couch one evening, Kurt half on top of Blane as they kiss, holding onto one another, their mouths open wide and latched together. It’s incredible and they haven’t come up for air for what feels like hours. But then Kurt is pulling away and Blaine grabs for him with a disgruntled noise.

“I need to ask you a question.”

Blaine blinks at him through ragged breaths. “Can you ask me it later?”

“It is vitally important that I ask you now,” Kurt says, looking at him with wide eyes.

“Okay,” Blaine says curiously.

Kurt lets out a breath he was apparently holding, softening as he reaches down and brushes Blaine’s curls out of the way. “Do you remember when we were in high school?”

“I don’t have dementia, Kurt,” Blaine says.

Kurt sighs. “Do you remember what we used to do?” he asks. “We’d be in my bedroom or your bedroom and we’d lie on the bed, legs all tangled together and faces together so we could kiss, but hips a safe distance apart and the hands never strayed below.”

“Yeah,” Blaine says, the word drawn out, waiting for more.

“I always felt safe,” Kurt says. “You made me feel safe.”

“You’re welcome,” Blaine says, lifting his head to try and kiss him again.

“I’m not done,” Kurt says, dodging him.

Blaine drops back down with a groan.

“We make out on the couch because going through to the bedroom would be so loaded now that we have a whole apartment to ourselves,” Kurt says. “You don’t go to the bedroom unless… And we’re not. But it might be more comfortable to do this on the bed. Like we used to. And I promise it doesn’t mean anything other than I’m desperately trying not to push my hard on into your hip right now.”

“Oh,” Blaine says, glancing down. “Yeah, okay, let’s go to the bedroom.” Kurt climbs off him before helping Blaine to his feet. “You could have just led with that,” Blaine says, not letting go of Kurt’s hand as they go down the hall.

They climb onto the bed from opposite sides, moving towards each other to meet in the middle. Blaine hasn’t been in this room before, but he doesn’t waste any time looking around. He literally only has eyes for Kurt. He appreciates the softness of the comforter under his bare arm though as he reaches out to Kurt, shuffling closer so that they’re breathing the same air, happily twining their legs together. He smiles, taking hold of Kurt’s hand again as he leans in for a kiss.

It starts off chaste, like they’re back at the beginning again, but not in a bad way. Now they get to have that dizzying build up all over again. Blaine hopes that means it lasts even longer now. It’s so easy to get lost in Kurt, to never want to stop. Things always end up in that inevitable place though, where there’s nowhere to go besides the sex they’re not going to have and anything else would just be frustrating rather than fulfilling.

Blaine likes this though. He likes the bed, likes the position they’re in, maximum contact and comfort without the raw sexuality of it. He remembers exactly why they used to do this in high school. It felt so daring then. Now, it just feels…

He pulls gently back from Kurt’s mouth, opening his eyes. “This does feel safe,” he says.

“You’re welcome,” Kurt teases.

Blaine gives him a look. “Shut up.”

“Make me,” Kurt says with a smirk.

Blaine moves forward, nipping Kurt’s bottom lip between his teeth before diving in for a proper kiss. It’s deep and full of wanting, the emotional kind as much as the physical. Blaine kind of has to relearn that part. He spent so long separating love from sex because it made everything hurt less through those lonely, bitter years. But through his support group, through his therapist, through Kurt, he’s slowly weaving them back together again, making something he hopes will be unbreakable. Love is important, but sex is important too, a way to express things that simply don’t have words. For too long for Blaine, those things have been hate and hurt and disgust. It was something dirty and dark. When he and Kurt finally do this, he’s going to have washed it all clean.

Kurt’s hands are on his body, above the waist, he’s the most patient man in the world and Blaine truly doesn’t know how he does it. He’s pretty sure if the tables were turned, he would have broken weeks ago. Blaine hooks his foot around one of Kurt’s ankles, moaning into the kiss as Kurt’s hand strokes up and down his side, tilting his head to get a better angle on the kiss.

As Kurt’s hand moves up again, the fabric of Blaine’s T-shirt catches on his fingers, dragged up, Kurt’s palm skimming flesh. Blaine tries to suck his stomach in while simultaneously moving into the touch, unable to help himself. He can feel Kurt start to hesitate so he fists one hand in Kurt’s shirt, the other going to his face to keep him there as he kisses him deeper. Kurt kisses back, his hand resting on Blaine’s flesh, but then a moment later he’s pulling away, cheeks flushed.

“Don’t,” Blaine complains. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah, I just need a minute,” Kurt says, removing his hand and holding up a finger at Blaine.

“Okay,” Blaine says, his insides twisting. “I’m sorry.”

“Please don’t apologise,” Kurt says. “I’m happy. We’re happy.” He looks at Blaine. “Are you happy?”

“I am so happy,” Blaine assures him.

Kurt smiles at him, seeming to relax. “You are the most beautiful person I’ve ever met.”

Blaine rolls his eyes. “That’s not true, you work with models.”

“Blaine,” Kurt says, voice firm as he takes hold of his hand. “You are the most beautiful person I’ve ever met. Now you say thank you and you pay me a compliment.”

Blaine smiles. “Thank you,” he says, really meaning it. “You are so fucking flawless, Kurt Hummel.”

“I have been told,” Kurt responds, trying to keep a straight face.

“You’re supposed to say thank you,” Blaine whispers as he leans in, brushing their lips together.

“Thank you,” Kurt whispers back, brushing another kiss against Blaine’s mouth. “But I still need a minute over here.”

Blaine nods, lifting his head to look around the room, not finding what he’s looking for. “You don’t have a clock?”

“I don’t want to know what time it is when I’m in here,” Kurt responds.

Blaine snorts a laugh, grabbing Kurt’s wrist and turning it so he can see his watch. “I might have to call it a night actually,” he says regrettably. “Early rehearsal tomorrow. Dylan wants to get the blocking locked down so we can start on putting the routines together for the musical numbers which sounds even more exhausting. So, crack of dawn it is. He promised to bring cronuts though.”

Kurt sighs. “Yeah, I have a lot to do tomorrow too,” he agrees. “I really need to finalise my Fashion Week designs. Why am I taking on a potential partnership in the middle of the busiest time of the year?”

“Because you have to take opportunities when they come, timing be damned,” Blaine says. “You’ve got a great team, you can handle it. I believe in you.”

“My own little cheerleader,” Kurt says.

“I still have my Cheerios uniform,” Blaine says. “I can get my mom to send it to me if you want.”

“Yeah, that wouldn’t sound like a kinky request at all,” Kurt says. He taps his fingers on the bed between them. “I wish you could stay.”

Blaine nods. The fact that Kurt phrases it as a statement rather than a question proves how much he respects Blaine’s boundaries. He places a kiss on Kurt’s cheek in thanks before sitting up. “I love you,” he says. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Love you too,” Kurt says easily, not moving as Blaine leaves the room.

The next couple of weeks are crazy for both of them. When Blaine finally finds himself with a spare moment, he picks up some food and heads to Kurt’s design space.

“Hey, Blaine,” June, Kurt’s assistant, greets as he comes through the door. “Good luck,” she adds.

“Thanks,” Blaine responds as he opens the sliding door to the workspace, stepping inside.

Everyone is moving around with purpose, a picture of productivity, every surface, including the entirety of the conference table, covered in fabric and designs. Blaine looks around, finally spotting Kurt sat engrossed in a folder with two other people. Blaine waits for a break in the discussion before interrupting.

“Delivery for Mr. Hummel,” he says with a flourish, holding up the food bag.

Kurt looks up at him, his eyes going soft and his mouth curving up. “Is the delivery you or the food?”

“Both if you want,” Blaine says.

Kurt’s eyes flick down to his work and then back at Blaine. “Can you give me twenty minutes?”

“Yeah, sure,” Blaine says. “I can just leave the food and go, I don’t want to make you stop.”

“No, I need a break,” Kurt says. “I think we all do. So, twenty minutes? If you don’t have to get back.”

Blaine shakes his head. “I have time.”

“Great,” Kurt says, looking like a weight has been lifted. “Wait in my office?”

Blaine nods, making his way over. Kurt’s desk is a disaster, so Blaine decides against trying to set the food up there. Instead, he sits down on the couch, turning so he can see the photographs on the wall. They haven’t changed since Blaine was here last, he’s still not up there, but he likes this view into Kurt’s heart. It’s so honest and vulnerable.

Blaine turns around with a sigh, trying to ignore the smell of his lunch. He should wait was Kurt. He really should. But he’s starving. He looks idly around for a distraction, noticing a digital photo frame on Kurt’s desk that wasn’t there before. It’s probably a work thing, designs or inspirations, but from this angle, Blaine can see what looks like a gold star. His curiosity gets the better of him, glancing at the door before getting to his feet.

At the top left hand corner of the black frame are the words _My heart _written carefully in gold pen with a little heart drawn beside it, and at the bottom right corner are the words _My star_ with a gold star. It couldn’t be more obviously from Rachel. As if to confirm it, there’s a photograph on the screen of Kurt and Rachel hugging each other, grinning at the camera. After a few seconds, the picture changes, showing one of Kurt, Rachel and Jesse on some kind of hike. The pictures keep changing, rotating through cute pictures of Kurt at various places, mostly with Rachel, sometimes with Jesse, a few with Brittany and Santana. And then there’s one of Kurt and Blaine.__

__Blaine recognises it. It’s at Rachel and Jesse’s apartment, Blaine sat at the piano with Kurt beside him on the bench, singing to one another. There’s so much happiness and hope in their eyes. But then it changes and Kurt and Rachel are laughing while they try and hold yoga poses. Blaine appears again though, in a photograph with Kurt, Rachel and Jesse at a bar, holding up drinks. The four of them having a picnic in Central Park. Kurt between Blaine and Rachel, holding both of their hands as he says something that captures their attention._ _

__“Maid of honour gift from Rachel,” Kurt says, making Blaine jump. He looks up as Kurt closes the door behind himself._ _

__“I wasn’t snooping,” he says. “Sorry.”_ _

__Kurt just looks amused, coming to stand behind him and look at the changing photographs. “I cannot tell you how happy I am that she’s not getting married until next summer,” he says. “If I had to design a wedding dress on top of everything else, I think it might literally kill me.”_ _

__“So you’re really still going with maid of honour?” Blaine asks. “Not best man? Man of honour?”_ _

__“Nothing wrong with tradition,” Kurt says distractedly, still looking at the photos. “The next one’s my favourite.”_ _

__Blaine looks down to see the photo switch to one of he and Kurt. It’s a party at Rachel and Jesse’s apartment, but the photo is cropped so that they’re the only ones in it, whoever they’re talking to out of shot. Kurt has his arm around Blaine’s waist, holding him close, Blaine pressing his face into Kurt’s neck as they both laugh at something, a perfect depiction of joy. Blaine can’t remember the context, but he loves the shot._ _

__“Sometimes I just…” Kurt reaches over, pressing a small button on the side of the frame, stopping the slideshow so that the screen remains static on the one picture. Kurt gives a happy sigh before finally turning towards Blaine. He leans over, kissing him on the cheek. “You brought me lunch?”_ _

__“I did,” Blaine agrees, making his way back over to the couch. “I got you a salad,” he says, pulling it out of the bag and handing it over to Kurt as he sits down beside him. “But then I got myself a Reuben and I felt bad about you eating leaves so I got you one too. If you don’t want it, I can-”_ _

__“Give me the Reuben,” Kurt demands._ _

__“Okay,” Blaine says slowly, reaching into the bag._ _

__“Sorry, I’m hangry and that sounds so good right now,” Kurt says, ripping into the wrapping. He takes a huge bite, making a noise that is frankly sexual. “Amazing,” he says around his mouthful. “I love you.”_ _

__Blaine smiles, unwrapping his own sandwich. “Definitely glad I made that call.”_ _

__Kurt wipes his mouth with a napkin, looking up at Blaine. “So, what did you do to earn a long lunch?”_ _

__“I earned a whole afternoon off actually,” Blaine says. “We’ve been running through the musical numbers solidly all morning and Dylan finally recognised that none of us are fit enough to dance for another five hours solid, so he told us to take a break.”_ _

__“Lucky you,” Kurt says. He eyes Blaine. “Hey, if you’re free, do you think you could do me a favour?”_ _

__“Yeah, anything,” Blaine says easily._ _

__“I have a couple of prototypes for the activewear collaboration,” Kurt says. “Can I fit it to you and then ask you to wear it to rehearsals to get some feedback?”_ _

__“That sounds amazing,” Blaine says. “I will totally do that.”_ _

__“Thank you,” Kurt says, practically collapsing on him with relief. “I managed to convince June to stay late one night so I could fit her and she’s wearing them to yoga and crossfit, but I really need a perspective on the male designs and I just do not have time to track someone down or take a member of my team hostage in here all afternoon when we have so much to do.”_ _

__“Kurt, breathe,” Blaine says. “This is a mutually beneficial agreement. You get to tick off part of your design process so you can focus on finalising your Fashion Week pieces, I get cute outfits for rehearsals _and_ I get to spend the afternoon with my boyfriend. Win, win, win.”_ _

__“Did I mention that I love you?” Kurt asks._ _

__“You did,” Blaine says. “But you might have been talking to the Reuben.”_ _

__“Yeah, I might,” Kurt admits, taking another bite._ _

__Once they’ve finished eating, and Kurt has made sure he’s washed every bit of grease off his hands, Blaine spends the next couple of hours standing on the pedestal in Kurt’s office, being ordered in and out of clothes and trying not to get stabbed by pins. Kurt doesn’t talk to him the whole time, only speaking to give directions, and Blaine knows that he’s just a moving mannequin right now. He’s not Kurt’s boyfriend. He’s not much of anything. He’s just a body._ _

__It makes an uncomfortable feeling settle in Blaine’s gut. He thought this would be fun. Intimate. Flirty. It’s the exact opposite. He reminds himself of what this means, of why they’re doing this. Because Kurt needs help. Because Kurt trusts him. Because… because he’s here._ _

__He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to push away the objectification. Kurt loves him. He knows that Kurt loves him. He knows that they’re good together and good for each other and that they have something real and honest._ _

__Kurt is at work. It’s completely inappropriate for Blaine to be having a breakdown over the fact that he’s not being called pretty._ _

__With a sigh he looks over at Kurt’s desk, at the photograph he paused the frame on earlier. He feels some of the tension leaving his body. That’s him and Kurt. That’s what they have. That’s still there, even as Kurt’s hands run over his body without ever bothering to make eye-contact with him. This is a work favour. The next time Kurt touches him, it’s going to be nothing like this. It’s going to be amazing._ _

__“Right,” Kurt says shortly. “Off.”_ _

__Blaine strips down to his underwear for what feels like the millionth time and stands awkwardly on the pedestal. Kurt carefully gathers up the various garments in his arms._ _

__“I’m going to hand these to my master seamstress to finish off and then you can get out of here,” Kurt says. “Back in a sec.”_ _

__Blaine stands there, hands clutched in front of himself. Kurt is done with him now. He’s being dismissed. His body is of no further use. Blaine hates how that feels like such a rejection._ _

__Kurt comes back into the room, glancing at Blaine as he goes over to his desk. “You can get dressed now,” he says, sitting down in his chair and looking over the papers on his desk. Blaine doesn’t move. “This might be condescending, but can I give you a questionnaire to fill out? It just helps us get the information we need on the clothes so that…” He trails off as he notices Blaine is still just standing there in his underwear, trying not to shake. Kurt gets to his feet. “Sweetie, what’s wrong?”_ _

__Blaine gives a shake of his head, but he can’t dismiss Kurt’s concern. That’s not honest and Kurt trusts him. Blaine worked hard to gain that trust, he’s not going to do anything to risk it now, no matter how vulnerable it makes him._ _

__“Can I have a hug?” Blaine finally asks._ _

__“Of course,” Kurt says, stepping up onto the pedestal with him and wrapping him up in his arms._ _

__Blaine clings to him, burying his face in Kurt’s neck, feeling so safe with Kurt’s arms around him, even against his naked flesh, because this is Kurt loving him. This is Kurt caring. This is the emotional attachment that felt so frayed seconds ago._ _

__“It’s okay,” he says in a hushed voice, the words spilled against Kurt’s skin. “We’re okay.”_ _

__“We’re okay,” Kurt repeats, squeezing him a little harder._ _

__He holds him like that, wrapped up in his arms and rocking him slightly, like maybe they’re doing a slow dance. Blaine’s legs ache from the routines he’s been running through all morning, not to mention standing motionless for Kurt for the last couple of hours, but he never wants to move. He never wants this moment to end._ _

__Kurt leans back slightly, lifting a hand to push Blaine’s curls back, prompting him to look up and meet his gaze. “Can you talk to me?”_ _

__Blaine shrugs. “I just wanted a hug.”_ _

__Kurt stares at him, clearly waiting for more. It’s not confrontational, not suspicious, just patient. Blaine doesn’t ever want to be the person who lets him down again._ _

__“It was just the body thing,” Blaine says vaguely, not knowing how to explain it._ _

__“Oh god,” Kurt says and suddenly his arms are gone. “And then I made you take your clothes off. I’m sorry, Blaine, I wasn’t thinking.” He hops off the pedestal, grabbing Blaine’s clothes._ _

__“No, no, that’s not it,” Blaine says, even as he accepts the sweatshirt that Kurt thrusts at him, pulling it over his head. “I don’t mind that. I trust you. I just didn’t expect it to feel so impersonal. Which of course it would. It’s business. This is your job.” He licks his lips, eyes falling down. “I just promised myself I would only ever let someone touch me out of love and respect, and I know that you love and respect me, it just messed with my head for a minute. It was like you couldn’t see me.”_ _

__Kurt pulls him back into a hug. “Thank you for explaining that to me. It makes perfect sense. And I’m sorry I made you feel that way.”_ _

__Blaine melts into the hug, not trying to argue with Kurt’s apology because Blaine is allowed to have feelings. He doesn’t have to apologise for them. If he explains and Kurt accepts then they get to keep moving on together. A real, grown up relationship._ _

__“You are truly gorgeous,” Kurt tells him. “And the next time I get your clothes off, you are going to be in no doubt about how I feel about you, Blaine Anderson.”_ _

__Blaine turns to kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you.”_ _

__Kurt pulls back. “Now maybe put your pants back on before my seamstress comes in here.”_ _

__Blaine gives a laugh. “Okay.”_ _

__He leaves with the altered clothes in his rehearsal bag and a promise to call Kurt later that night. When he gets back to his apartment, he crashes on the couch for an hour with some terrible reality TV show before he finally finds the will to take a shower. He feels drained, physically, emotionally, mentally, but that last lingering kiss that Kurt pressed to his lips has outweighed it all with a sleepy contentment._ _

__He fucked up, spiralled, just a little, but it left him on such shaky ground and he’s ashamed that he was going to walk out of Kurt’s office with it still eating away at him so that it could grow into something dark and destructive. He needed that hug, but it wouldn’t have meant anything if Kurt hadn’t pulled the words out of him too. If there’s anything he’s learnt from his support group and his therapist, it’s that saying the words out loud, admitting them and sharing them, it makes them something tangible, something he can fight. They lose their power when they’re out there in the world. Everything looks different in the sunlight and when it’s shining bright, he can finally figure out how to untie the knots._ _

__After he’s showered, he decides to put on one of the outfits Kurt gave him. He knew the fabric was soft, but he didn’t really appreciate it until it’s snug against his body without temporary seams and pins in the way. He admires himself in the mirror. Kurt is undoubtedly off to a winner here. He can’t wait to show the clothes off at rehearsal tomorrow._ _

__He waits until late before he calls Kurt, knowing that he’ll be working overtime. He settles on the couch with some decaf coffee, sipping slowly as he waits for Kurt to pick up._ _

__“Hey, you,” Kurt greets, his voice playful._ _

__“Hey yourself,” Blaine responds. “Are you still at the office?”_ _

__There’s a guilty pause. “I was literally just about to leave.”_ _

__“You want to call me back when you get home?” Blaine asks._ _

__“No,” Kurt says, his voice straining like he’s stretching his body. “I want to talk to you. Then I’m going home.”_ _

__“Hey, crazy idea, you could do both,” Blaine says. “I’ll keep you company during your commute.”_ _

__“I’ll wait,” Kurt dismisses. “How was the rest of your afternoon? You doing okay?”_ _

__“I am,” Blaine says. “Thank you. You dealt with that admirably, even though strictly speaking that’s what my sponsor and my therapist are for.”_ _

__“It can be what your boyfriend’s for too,” Kurt says. “And I’m getting my brownie points on that front in now because with every passing day towards Fashion Week, I am going to get more and more neurotic and unhinged and you’re going to have to deal with it. So I can handle a little bit of hugging and reassurance if you can.”_ _

__“Deal,” Blaine says, feeling a warmth spread through his chest. “Also, I’m wearing those clothes you gave me, they’re insanely comfortable, I might never take them off.”_ _

__“Oh, you like them?” Kurt asks hopefully._ _

__“I love them,” Blaine says. “Thanks for trusting me with the test run. I promise I will fill out your very extensive questionnaire.”_ _

__“I know my product development stage can seem excessive, I just want to get it right,” Kurt says apologetically._ _

__“Which is why you’re so successful,” Blaine says. “Courage and heart. That’s what you built your brand with and it shows.”_ _

__“Well, you gave me both,” Kurt says easily, as though he’s not declaring his undying love through all of Blaine’s fuck ups._ _

__“Hey, so I cooked tonight,” Blaine says. “From scratch. I never have the energy for that lately. I got a little carried away though, there’s leftovers. You think you might be free tomorrow evening to share with me?”_ _

__“All that and you feed me too,” Kurt says. “I love you. My place or yours?”_ _

__“I’ll come to you,” Blaine says. “My place gets way too crowded if there’s more than one person in it.”_ _

__“Great, I will see you then,” Kurt says. “I’ll provide the wine.”_ _

__“Then I’ll provide the tipsy make out session,” Blaine quips. “Love you.”_ _


	8. Chapter 8

When Blaine gets to Kurt’s apartment the following evening, Tupperware in hand, he’s still wearing the outfit he had on at rehearsal. Kurt’s outfit. Kurt’s eyes slide appreciatively up and down him and Blaine honestly can’t tell if he’s checking out Blaine’s body or the outfit, but he doesn’t really care. Kurt has a lot to be proud of.

“You like?” Blaine asks.

Kurt smiles at him, pulling him into a hug, lips brushing against his temple. “I love,” he responds.

“It was a hit at rehearsal,” Blaine says as Kurt lets him go, doing a little spin before walking into the apartment. “Dylan was very interested. He’s probably going to call you.”

“Did you tell him who I’m working with?” Kurt asks, his eyes going wide.

“Don’t worry, I read the legal stuff on the questionnaire,” Blaine assures him. “I just said it was some ideas you were considering, I didn’t mention any collaboration.”

Kurt gives a sigh of relief. “Thank you. I’m sorry. I am ridiculously high strung right now.”

“That’s why you are going to open a bottle of wine and sit yourself down with a glass while I heat up these leftovers,” Blaine says.

Kurt smiles at him. “Yeah, okay, that sounds perfect, let’s do that.”

Blaine gets the food ready, pausing only to accept the glass of wine Kurt hands him on his way to the couch. By the time Blaine joins him there, two plates of food in his hands, Kurt has sunk into the couch cushions, the edge melting away from him.

They eat in silence, watching the entertainment news because it’s slightly less depressing than the real news. Once they’ve finished though, Kurt turns the TV off, putting on some quiet music and turning his body towards Blaine’s on the couch. Blaine mirrors his action, the two of them sipping their wine as they gaze at one another, and it should be boring and awkward, but somehow it’s riveting.

“Can I kiss you?” Kurt asks, his voice hushed.

Blaine smiles. “Since when did you have to ask?”

“It felt romantic,” Kurt responds, fighting off his own smile.

Blaine gives a laugh, taking Kurt’s wine glass from his hand, placing it on the table along with his own. “I don’t indulge in fairytales anymore,” he says. “But I can sweep you off your feet if you like.”

He leans in, arm going around Kurt’s waist to pull him closer as he joins their mouths together. He gives it his best iconic romance movie moment, feeling Kurt lean his weight back into Blaine’s arm as their mouths open up to one another, tongues sliding together. It’s not a full dip, they’d need to be stood up for that, but Blaine’s pretty sure his legs wouldn’t hold when Kurt kisses as good as this.

They pull apart, all breathless pants and glazed over eyes and blown pupils. A kiss shouldn’t be able to make either of them feel like this. Blaine gives a little shudder, tugging Kurt towards him again, falling back so that Kurt lands on top of him. They kiss, chests pressed together, Kurt’s hands sliding over his clothes, his neck, making Blaine arch and moan as he clings to him. It feels different, like something has shifted. Blaine pulls him impossibly closer, feeling so needy and demanding in a way he hasn’t in so long and he can’t quite work out why. It scares him. But he wants. And Kurt is safe, so he decides to let go and let his instincts lead.

He grabs hold of Kurt’s hands, guiding them towards the hem of his shirt. “You can go under.”

Kurt lifts his head, staring at him in incomprehension. “What?”

“Your hands,” Blaine says. “They can go under my shirt.”

Kurt freezes as his fingertips touch skin. “Blaine,” he says hesitantly. “I don’t want to do anything that…”

“Trust me,” Blaine implores. “I want this. I promise I’ll tell you if it’s too much.”

Kurt watches his face carefully as he moves his fingers over Blaine’s abs, feeling the warmth, the little quiver of Blaine’s muscles in response. Blaine’s eyelids flutter with a little noise, smiling at Kurt.

“Nice.”

“Very nice,” Kurt agrees, daring to explore a little further.

Blaine nods, hands roaming over Kurt’s back through his shirt. “Can I?”

Kurt reaches behind himself with no hesitation, tugging his shirt from where it’s tucked into the back of his pants.

Blaine’s lips quirk up into a smile. “Thank you.”

They kiss and they touch, losing track of anything but each other. Both of their shirts end up pushed up to their armpits, their bare torsos pressed together, sweat and heat captured between them. Blaine feels an intense want inside him, something he can’t identify or give a name to. He’s so hard and his body and his mind both tell him to get closer, be nearer, have more. Of what, he’s not sure.

He bends his leg, thigh brushing against Kurt’s hard cock, and then he does it again more deliberately, pressing his thigh between both of Kurt’s with a moan, his hips riding up afterwards, head falling back.

“Blaine,” Kurt grits out in warning.

“Sorry,” Blaine breathes, dropping his leg back down.

Kurt leans his top half in closer, which has the dual result of moving his hips slightly further away, kissing over Blaine’s neck with breathy moans. Blaine arches his back, handing himself over, his hands going to Kurt’s hips and holding on tight. Kurt stops kissing him, ragged breaths falling over Blaine’s wet skin. Blaine turns his head, lips trailing across the side of Kurt’s face before his tongue is tracing the shell of his ear.

“Okay,” Kurt says decisively, sitting up so fast that Blaine’s sure it must make his head spin.

“Did I…?” Blaine asks hesitantly as he pulls himself up, folding his legs beneath him.

“No,” Kurt rushes to say, reaching to take hold of his hand. “No, sweetheart, you did nothing wrong. You are incredible. I just need a minute to collect myself.”

Blaine watches him, the tension in his body as he tries to just breathe, clearing his mind of anything but the in and out. Blaine recognises that look. The lack of control. That feeling of barely holding on. The hatred that comes from holding yourself back balanced by the feeling of hatred that comes from giving in.

He shakes his head. “I don’t want you to associate that feeling with me.”

Kurt looks at him. “What?”

“That frustration,” Blaine says. “I don’t want that to be what you take away from us. I don’t want it to be echoing in the background every time you kiss me or touch me.”

“Blaine, it’s not,” Kurt says.

“You have enough in your life that’s stressing you out right now,” Blaine says. “I don’t want to add to that. This is supposed to be fun.”

“It is fun,” Kurt insists. “It’s amazing and wonderful and I would rather be here with you doing this than anyone or anything else. But I’m just…” He looks away, sitting up in that prim and proper way he always used to do when he was about to admit to something he was embarrassed by. “I’m just trying not to come in my pants on top of my celibate boyfriend who has very reasonable boundaries.”

Blaine smiles, moving in closer so that he can lean against him, lacing their fingers together. “Not celibate,” he reminds him teasingly.

Kurt shakes his head. “We’re not having sex. I’m not going to do that with you, that is not on the cards, Blaine.”

“No, it’s not,” Blaine agrees easily. “Not today, anyway. I’m making smart choices for me. And I want to make a smart choice for us too.”

Kurt looks at him, worry clear in his eyes. “If you suggest we take a break or I sleep with someone else then I am going to lose my mind.”

“Neither of those,” Blaine says. “But if our make out sessions end like this then we’re both going to feel pretty crappy about it. So you could go take care of things, and then you could come back here and we could cuddle.”

Kurt blinks at him. “You want me to go jerk off?”

Blaine leans in closer whispering in his ear. “I really want you to do that. You’ll feel better, I’ll feel better, and the more I think about it, the hotter it sounds.”

Kurt stares at him. “But isn’t that objectifying you? Isn’t that what the issue was yesterday?”

“It doesn’t feel like yesterday,” Blaine says. “Because you have made abundantly clear your adoration of me today. And you’re willing to stop. Which is willpower I’m not sure I could ever possess. But you don’t have to. Let’s get rid of this tension and then you are going to sleep so well tonight.”

Kurt takes a breath, his cheeks pink, staring at the wall opposite him. “Is this kinky? It feels kinky.”

“It’s masturbation, Kurt,” Blaine says. “You’ve been doing it since you were, what? Twelve?”

Kurt gives him an incredulous look. “Twelve?!”

“Go have an orgasm,” Blaine says. “Please. I want to cuddle with you without you having to sit there thinking about… nuns or Rachel Berry or whatever is unattractive to you.”

Kurt suddenly lunges at him, kissing him deeply, his arm going around Blaine’s back, fingertips skimming his flesh. Blaine moans, kissing back, hands fisted in Kurt’s shirt. He feels like his body is on fire, molten and needy and pliant under Kurt’s hands that map out his back and stroke over his neck and tickle through his hair in a way that makes him shudder and whine. Kurt groans at that, pulling him closer, kissing him deeper until he can’t breathe and he feels like he’s floating in the most wonderful way. He loves it when Kurt kisses him like there’s nothing else in the world. Literally mind blowing.

“Right,” Kurt says as he pulls away, getting unsteadily to his feet. “Thanks for that. I’ll be back.”

Blaine gives him a bemused smile, feeling like he’s on a carousel. “You’re welcome?”

“Thinking of you, babe,” Kurt promises before he swings his bedroom door shut behind him.

Blaine sits, braced against the couch, feeling out of it. And hard as fuck. It’s like someone has just thrown a bucket of water over him, but it hasn’t dampened his want. He reaches down, pressing his hand against his hard cock through the soft material of his pants and it feels incredible. He wonders if there’s a box for that on the questionnaire.

He pulls his hand away, trailing over his thigh. He doesn’t do that. He hasn’t done that. But Kurt is doing it right now, pants pushed down, hands around his cock, dirty fantasies about Blaine running through his mind. And maybe that _should_ make him feel objectified, but it doesn’t. It makes him feel loved and wanted and also hot as hell. Kurt is touching himself. Kurt is going to come with Blaine’s name on his lips. Maybe. Blaine decides to believe he will. And then he groans and his hand is back on his dick through his pants.

It doesn’t feel wrong to do this. He’s so turned on, but it doesn’t make him feel cheap or slutty. He’s turned on by his boyfriend. He’s turned on by kissing him and touching him and expressing their feelings for one other. That’s a healthy kind of arousal, right? It feels healthy. It feels right. He slides a hand inside his pants, fingers wrapping around his cock.

It jumps in his hand and Blaine whimpers, closing his eyes and resting his head back against the couch. He imagines that it’s Kurt’s hand, but then he doesn’t. He thinks of the way that Kurt kisses him, not just when they’re making out, when it’s hot and heavy. He thinks about those tender, thoughtless kisses that are pure expressions of affection. He thinks of Kurt’s hands on him, sliding over his flesh, under his shirt, but also how he holds his hand and brushes his fingers through his hair and loves him with so many little gestures.

He pushes his pants, Kurt’s pants, out of the way, stroking himself as precome starts to dribble from his tip. It’s been so long. It’s not like he hasn’t had orgasms, he’s had wet dreams, some vivid and filthy, some fairytale-esque, most that he can’t even remember. But he’s never done it like this, on purpose. He’s never had his body line up with his head and his heart like it is right now. It feels like a revelation.

It doesn’t take long, it can’t possibly take long, not with how close to the edge Kurt already pushed him and with how desperate his body is for a proper release. But it’s the thoughts that really get him off, the memories of every touch since he moved back to New York and into Kurt’s life again. And then his mind goes forwards. He imagines being on Kurt’s bed, naked. He imagines his own hand around Kurt’s cock instead of him having to touch himself like now with a door between them. He imagines Kurt’s body above his own, moving against him, their cocks rubbing together, Kurt looking at him like he’s the most precious thing in the world.

And that’s when he comes with a strangled noise, hips stuttering and cock spurting and tears springing to his eyes. His mouth hangs open as he holds his breath and just feels, the tension exploding into electricity across his skin, flaring up in his gut. When he finally takes a breath, it’s like surfacing from underwater and everything is so clear and clean and good. Kurt wasn’t the only one who needed that, he realises, and he feels like it leaves his head clearer to see the road ahead. The view makes him smile.

He reaches forwards, grabbing a tissue from the box Kurt thankfully keeps on the coffee table and cleaning himself up before he picks up his wine, taking a large swig. He hums happily, melting back onto the couch and hugging one of the cushions to himself. It will have to do until Kurt comes back.

He doesn’t know how much time passes before Kurt’s bedroom door opens again. Blaine is kind of in a daze. He flicks his eyes up though and sees Kurt dressed in pyjama pants and his _likes boys_ T-shirt, which is unfairly hot. Blaine just smiles at him and Kurt smiles back, the tension gone from his shoulders as he crosses the room, dropping down onto the couch beside Blaine.

Blaine pushes the cushion aside, going to snuggle against Kurt instead, resting his head against Kurt’s shoulder as he throws his legs over his lap, Kurt wrapping his arms around him to hold him close as his lips brush against his temple.

“I love you so so much,” Kurt says.

“I love you too,” Blaine says. “Have fun?”

Kurt hums, squeezing Blaine with his whole body. “I thought of you the whole time.”

Blaine’s lips quirk up into a smile. “Me too.”

Kurt looks down at him. “Wait, what?”

Blaine just grins at him.

“Did you come on my couch?” Kurt asks.

“Not on the upholstery,” Blaine says.

“Oh my god,” Kurt groans. “I cannot get hard again right now.”

Blaine laughs, snuggling into his neck. “It wasn’t my intention when I sent you off. I just wanted you to relax. But then… you’re an amazing kisser and I was really turned on, and it didn’t feel like the wrong thing to do. I don’t regret it. It didn’t feel bad or dirty. It felt kind of intimate because you were right there and we were doing it together. Together apart.”

Kurt strokes his back, resting his forehead against the top of Blaine’s head. “It definitely felt together,” he agrees softly.

“And I feel like next time,” Blaine says, lifting his head to meet Kurt’s eyes. “I might be ready to do it _together_ together.”

Kurt stares at him, his eyes still so soft and loving. “I’m not rushing you.”

“You’re not,” Blaine agrees. “But I had all that sex that was stripped of love. And now, with you, I have all this love that’s stripped of sex. I want to put it back together again. I don’t think either one is worth as much on its own as they are together. And I trust you to walk through it slowly with me.”

“So slowly,” Kurt says, rubbing his arm. “And we can just stop and enjoy the view whenever you like.”

Blaine smiles at him, even through the heaviness that threatens to settle in his heart. This man is perfect. “When I was, uh…” he trails off, his eyes falling down. He has to be honest. He has to keep working through this with every breath that he takes. “Usually people paid for me to suck their cock or to fuck me.”

Something passes over Kurt’s face. Blaine can’t quite read it but it’s not disgust. He’s grateful for that.

“So, those are going to be the least appealing things,” Blaine continues. “Just to give you a heads up. But everything else I want to explore.”

“We can do whatever you want,” Kurt assures him.

“But it has to be what you want too,” Blaine says.

“I’m sure there’s plenty of overlap with our wants,” Kurt says.

Blaine smiles, nodding his head.

“And thank you telling me that,” Kurt says. “If I know what your buttons are, it helps me not press them. I want you to feel safe with me.”

“I do,” Blaine assures him, resting his head back in the crook of Kurt’s neck. “Can we snuggle now?”

“I thought we were,” Kurt responds, but he falls quiet, one arm wrapped tightly around Blaine’s waist, the other drawing patterns over his bare arm, and it feels like absolute perfection.

The next day, Kurt calls him while he’s in rehearsal. They’re taking a break for lunch so he picks up, heading across the room for a little space.

“Did I interrupt?” Kurt asks.

“No, I got time,” Blaine says. “Especially for you.”

“Well, do you have time tonight?” Kurt asks. “I thought maybe I could take you out to dinner.”

“That sounds nice,” Blaine says.

“And then we could go dancing,” Kurt continues.

Blaine smirks, last night running through his head. “Foreplay style?”

“I mean, if you wanted,” Kurt says.

“Blaine, no booty calls in rehearsal,” Dylan yells across the room.

Blaine can hear Kurt laughing in his ear as his cheeks flush red.

“But tell Kurt I said hi,” Dylan adds.

“Dylan says hi,” Blaine parrots.

“Yeah,” Kurt agrees. “Tell him not to wear you out too much before our date.”

“I’m not telling him that,” Blaine says.

“Okay, so, I’ll make a reservation for dinner and text you the details?” Kurt asks.

“Can’t wait,” Blaine replies, unable to keep the smile off his face as he returns to his lunch.

Kurt is already at the restaurant bar when Blaine gets there, two drinks in front of him. Blaine greets him with a hug and a kiss and Kurt slides one of the drinks over to him. Vodka soda lime. Blaine takes a grateful sip, sliding onto the bar stool beside him.

“Look, I just want to say something and it’s the only time I’ll say it and then we’re just going to enjoy our date,” Kurt says.

“Okay,” Blaine responds, looking at him warily.

“I’m not trying to get laid,” Kurt says. Blaine raises his eyebrows at him, trying to keep a straight face. “I didn’t ask you out tonight because of that conversation we had last night. I have no expectations. Just because I’m taking you to dinner and I bought you a drink, that doesn’t mean I expect anything in return. Okay?”

“Okay,” Blaine says, leaning in to place a kiss on his cheek before pulling back to brush his lips over Kurt’s ear, dropping his voice to a whisper. “But I think there’s a pretty good chance you’re going to get lucky.”

Kurt takes a breath before fixing him with a look. “You’re not allowed to turn me on like that somewhere as well-lit as this.”

Blaine smirks at him. “Noted,” he says, taking a sip of his drink.

A hostess comes to take them to their table, settling them in and taking their orders. As she leaves with the menus, Blaine looks across the small table at Kurt. He looks healthy and rested and his shoulders are slack, the tension that’s become a familiar part of his posture missing.

“What?” Kurt asks.

Blaine gives a shrug. “You look good.”

“Thank you,” Kurt says, looking down at himself. “You know I like to make an effort.”

“No,” Blaine dismisses. “I mean, yeah, you look incredibly handsome and well put together, but that’s kind of a given with you. But you look good in yourself. You look happy and relaxed. You look content.”

Kurt smiles at him. “I am.” He reaches across the table, taking hold of Blaine’s hand. “Thanks to you. You’re keeping me sane. I don’t think I would be holding it together if it wasn’t for you.” His eyes fall down to look at their joined hands, his thumb stroking over Blaine’s knuckles. “I have you,” he says simply.

“You do,” Blaine agrees, squeezing his hand.

“Last year,” Kurt starts, looking up at Blaine as though asking permission. Blaine gives him a nod to continue. Kurt lets out a breath, eyes falling back down. “Last year, I had no idea what was going on with you. I didn’t suspect anything. Or maybe I just didn’t want to because it was easier to believe that my high school sweetheart had fallen back into my lap for a fairytale ending. I had so much in my head, I didn’t have room for doubts as well. But on some level, I knew that you weren’t really mine. I didn’t have you.”

“No,” Blaine agrees. “I didn’t let you have me. You did nothing wrong and I’m sorry that I hurt you so much.”

Kurt shakes his head. “That’s not what this is about,” he dismisses. “You were sick, we’ve worked through that, I’m not trying to rehash old mistakes we might have made. I’m just telling you that I love you and I trust you. So thank you for letting me do both of those things. You make my life so much better.”

Blaine stares at him, feeling his chest tighten. “You’re going to make me cry in the middle of a restaurant.”

“Yeah, well, you made me half-hard at the bar so we’re even,” Kurt says casually.

Blaine bursts out laughing, a few people looking over at them, and Blaine dips his head but he doesn’t hide his joy. The fact that they can talk about sex, can joke and tease and tempt, it feels healthy. He’s come so far, they both have, so he’s not going to apologise for it.

When he composes himself, he looks over at Kurt, eyes shining with happiness. “I got you,” he says. “We’re going to get you through this Fashion Week and the collab deal. And then we’re going to get me through previews and opening night, right? Because I’m going to be a mess and then _you’re_ going to have to hold _me_ together.”

Kurt smiles at him. “Deal.”

“Deal,” Blaine agrees, squeezing his hand. He’s never felt so certain that they’re absolutely in this together.

After dinner, they go to their favourite club, Kurt dragging him straight onto the dancefloor. Blaine is more than happy to be there. He loves this confidence that Kurt has now, how secure he feels in himself. It’s so different from the boy he met all those years ago and he couldn’t be prouder.

“You’ve always been such a great dancer,” Kurt says, spinning Blaine around before pulling him in close.

“So have you,” Blaine says, arms going around Kurt’s neck as they move together.

Kurt gives a shake of his head, but Blaine can tell he’s not arguing, just that Blaine is apparently missing the point. “You have this natural flow. This emotion that’s in every part of your body. And now that’s part of your job. I just think that’s incredible. I can’t wait to see you on that stage.”

“Yeah, I kind of can’t wait to show you,” Blaine admits. “And everyone. It’s coming together so well, the long hours are worth it.”

“Mmmhmm,” Kurt says, hands sliding over his hips. “And that dancer’s body is coming along nicely, as an added little bonus.”

Blaine moves in closer, bodies brushing together, tilting his mouth up to Kurt’s ear. “Your hands can go lower if you want.”

Kurt pulls back to give him an incredulous look. “You’re giving me permission to put my hands south of the equator when we’re in a crowded club?”

Blaine gives a shrug. “Looks that way.” He tries to keep a straight face, but the grin he’s holding back wins out.

Kurt gives him a look that’s all love and want and joy, sliding his hands lower to cup Blaine’s ass, tugging him so that their bodies are pressed together. It’s arousing and intimate and undeniably sexual, but it doesn’t feel dirty, despite the fact that they’re on a packed dancefloor and anyone could be looking right now. And that’s when Blaine realises, as he grinds gently against Kurt to the beat of the music, that sex isn’t the dirty word. It never was. Sex is just sex, it doesn’t hold some magical power. The difference is how you approach it and what you let it do to you. Ultimately, your intentions define you, not your deeds. Anything done in love is inherently right, so he doesn’t think this can ever feel wrong. Not with Kurt.

He leans in, joining their mouths in a kiss, Kurt opening up effortlessly to him. It feels like such a beautiful moment. Blaine isn’t a slut. He’s not a whore. He’s not desperate for money or affection or validation. He’s just a guy at a club with his boyfriend, and nobody around him sees anything else.

When Kurt pulls away, he smiles at Blaine, resting their foreheads together. “We should come here opening night.”

“Of my show?” Blaine asks.

“Yeah,” Kurt says. “It’s tradition.”

“I’m not on Broadway,” Blaine says. “No one here is going to know or care who I am.”

“They are all going to know your name, Blaine Anderson,” Kurt says. “And I am going to be able to say I knew him way back when.”

“You are sappy tonight,” Blaine says, brushing their lips together again. “But I don’t want to rehash origin stories, not tonight. I just want the here and now.” He presses his hips deliberately against Kurt’s.

“Then shut up and dance,” Kurt says, sliding his hands back up to Blaine’s hips and giving him a little push to spin him before pulling him close and dipping him. It makes Blaine’s head spin in the most wonderful way, clinging to Kurt as he’s pulled upright again, their bodies falling into a rhythm together.

They don’t even stay at the club for an hour in the end. Their hearts aren’t in it, not when they know where they’d both rather be. They never lose physical contact the whole cab ride to Kurt’s apartment. It’s not heavy groping or PDAs, just reassuring little touches, tiding themselves over, needing to be close because they never want to let this go.

“Do you want a drink, or…” Kurt asks as they step into his apartment.

“No,” Blaine says, giving him a heated look, and then Kurt takes his hand and leads him through to the bedroom.

“I don’t think you’re a sure thing,” Kurt says reverently as his fingers dance over Blaine’s bowtie nervously.

“I’m a very sure thing,” Blaine assures him, pulling him in for a kiss.

“I just want to let it play out,” Kurt says breathlessly as he pulls away. “No expectations.”

Blaine nods, kissing him again. “It’s okay. I’m okay. We’re okay.”

“We’re okay,” Kurt agrees, and then he finally pulls Blaine’s bowtie open.

They fall into one another, fingers working buttons, lips catching on teeth, tongues sliding together. Blaine revels in the flesh he finds beneath Kurt’s shirt, pulling back, needing to see as well as feel. He’s toned and pale and flawless. He pushes his shirt back from his shoulders, Kurt letting it fall thoughtlessly to the floor as Blaine presses open mouthed kisses along the curve of his neck. Kurt moans, his own hands sliding beneath Blaine’s shirt, and Blaine’s not sure which sensation he’s responding to the most.

Their arms wrap around each other, mouths meeting again, deepening the kiss as their hips press together. They’re both hard. Blaine groans into Kurt’s mouth, feels the responding rumble in Kurt’s chest. Blaine loses patience, stripping his own shirt off before toeing off his shoes, Kurt following his lead before allowing himself to be pulled onto the bed.

For the first few moments, it’s just like it’s always been, legs, hands, lips, but hips kept safely apart. They kiss and they reach for each other and then Blaine shifts forward, pressing the length of their bodies together. Kurt’s hand slides down his side, over his hip, along the back of his thigh. Blaine takes the hint. They’ve done this before too, if only in another lifetime.

He lifts his leg, hooking it over Kurt’s hip, bringing their bodies tight together, his cock pressing into the firmness of Kurt’s pelvis, giving him something to really grind against. He moans, mouth falling down to Kurt’s neck, burying his face in smooth skin and the intoxicating scent of his soap and his cologne and his sweat. Kurt’s hand is on his ass, strengthening each one of Blaine thrusts, his own cock pressing into Blaine’s hip, making Blaine so hungry for more.

He’s so hot, he’s sweating, he can feel it rolling down his back, wetting his brow. He clings to Kurt and moves against him and lets out helpless little noises. He doesn’t care about being needy or vulnerable. Kurt has already seen the worst of him. Blaine won’t hide anything again. He won’t hold back. Honesty. That’s the only way this works, with himself as well as with Kurt.

Blaine lifts his head, letting his leg fall from Kurt’s hip so that he can get his hands between them. “These need to go,” he says, tugging at the button of Kurt’s pants.

He’s not really sure how it happens. It’s not pretty or romantic or sensuous. But shaking fingers unfasten buttons and zippers, sweaty hands yank material down, uncoordinated legs shimmy and kick until they’re finally free, and then it’s just them. Kurt is looking at him, a question in his eyes. Blaine just smiles at him. He has no doubts. None. This isn’t cheap or dirty. It’s beautiful.

He pulls Kurt on top of him, between his thighs, their naked bodies finally together. They moan, hard cocks rubbing together, both of them leaking wetness that leaves everything wet and slick. Kurt leans down, capturing Blaine’s mouth, hands holding each other impossibly close as they move, not really thrusting so much as grinding, feeling, trying to become one.

Blaine can tell as soon as it starts that it’s not going to last long. It feels too good and it’s been too long and every one of his senses are overloaded. The quick, frantic nature should put him in mind of all those backseats of cars with strangers paying him, all those nights at Scandals when he’d let anyone do anything, but there’s simply no comparison. Yes, he’s desperate, filled with need and want and desire. But not for this physical act. For the completeness of it that he hasn’t felt in a long time. That he hasn’t felt since Kurt.

He wraps his legs around Kurt’s back, rocking his hips unevenly upwards as he whimpers into Kurt’s mouth. Kurt’s fingers brush his neck, his cheek, his hair, comforting and reassuring, moaning back in response. Blaine lets his head fall down against the pillow, lets his whole body writhe upwards one last time before he’s coming, hot and sticky between them, neck arched and mouth open in a broken sob. He shudders, holding onto Kurt, grateful when he feels Kurt coming against him, face buried in Blaine’s neck as he muffles his cries. Blaine runs a hand down his spine, feeling Kurt shiver above him before slumping to the side, body still half on top of Blaine, breath still falling across the damp skin of Blaine’s neck.

They lie like that for a long time, breath gradually slowing, bodies cooling, fingertips starting to lazily explore one another’s bodies. Blaine feels so deeply fulfilled, so at peace. They built this, this trust and this love. It took hard work and hard decisions, but here they are, and Blaine doesn’t have a single doubt in the world.

“That was incredible,” Kurt says, leaning up on his elbow to grin down at Blaine.

“Worth the wait?” Blaine teases.

Kurt just stares at him with such sincerity. “Worth everything.”

Blaine feels himself go breathless, dropping the humour. He doesn’t need it. “I love you,” he says. It doesn’t go nearly deep enough to express everything he’s feeling, but it’s a start.

“I love you too,” Kurt responds, leaning down to kiss him, lingering and drawn out before they finally part. “Can you stay for a little bit?”

“If I don’t move now, I think I’m going to fall asleep for a million years,” Blaine says. “And fun as that might be, if I’m late to rehearsal in the morning, Dylan will have my balls.”

“Well, we can’t have that,” Kurt says. “I like your balls.”

Blaine smiles at him, lifting his head to press a firm, audible kiss to Kurt’s lips. “I’m going to get cleaned up now.”

Kurt nods, moving off him. It still takes all of Blaine’s strength to make his body move, groaning with the effort as he finally gets to his feet, heading through to the bathroom.

The following week, rehearsals finally move into the theatre and everything starts to feel a lot more real. Before it was almost like they were playing at it, working in that descriptionless room and trying things out. Now they’re on a stage and a set is being built around them and there are seats for an audience. This isn’t a little thing that’s just for them anymore. This is something to polish and perfect and then put out there in the world.

The bonus is that the theatre is closer to Kurt’s design studio, and also his apartment. He might be working harder as they pull all the loose threads together ready for previews, mirroring Kurt’s crazy hours in the lead up to Fashion Week, but being in close proximity means they can carve out regular moments for each other at every opportunity. And Blaine has taken to leaving some rehearsal clothes at Kurt’s apartment so that staying the night isn’t out of the question.

Blaine can’t believe how perfectly their lives have managed to fit together without being consumed by each other. It’s healthy and it’s realistic. The sex has been exploratory, relearning each other, refining their boundaries and limits. It’s kind of like a second puberty, but he didn’t appreciate it this much the first time around. Now every new touch, every new position, it’s like an awakening. This is okay. This isn’t wrong. This isn’t dirty. Sex can be beautiful. Love can be beautiful. They can both be ugly and harmful as well. There’s no such thing as absolutes in the world, just trying and learning and being willing to grow from your mistakes.

He’s surprised that they only have one major stumble. One night, naked in Kurt’s bed, Kurt’s hand wrapped around both of their cocks, Blaine feels that restless need for more. It’s that itch that would usually lead him to the street or Scandals, but he’s already in the middle of a sex act with his boyfriend. This should be enough. But there’s just some little edge he can’t quite grasp at.

“Do you have lube?” he asks.

Kurt lifts his head up, hand stilling. “Uh, yeah. Sorry, I thought it was slick enough, but let me grab it,” he says, pulling away to reach for the nightstand.

“No, it’s good,” Blaine assures him. “I just wanted you to finger me.”

Kurt freezes, hand on the drawer handle. He looks warily at Blaine. “Are you sure?”

“Please don’t ask me that,” Blaine begs. He can’t analyse this right now. “Just trust me.”

“I do,” Kurt says with a nod, leaning down to press a kiss against Blaine’s lips before he finally moves and gets the drawer open. “Do you want a pillow?”

“Oh, yeah, maybe,” Blaine says. They always liked doing this face to face, and right now all Blaine wants to see is Kurt.

He grabs a pillow while Kurt gets the lube, lifting up so that he can slide the pillow underneath himself, angling his hips upwards. It reminds him of the first time they did this, when they were fumbling teenagers and couldn’t quite get it right, and in the end Blaine pouted while Kurt broke off to google it. The pillow made it a whole lot easier and all false starts were forgotten. They were so innocent. Blaine might have watched more of _those_ movies than Kurt, but he still didn’t really know anything when they started on this journey. They discovered it together. All of Blaine’s experiences could have been sweet and pure. But then he had to go and ruin himself.

He tries to push the thought away as Kurt returns to him, slipping between Blaine’s spread thighs as he clicks open the bottle of lube, pouring some onto his fingers. He smiles at Blaine and Blaine smiles back, taking a breath and letting his body sink into the bed as he exhales.

Kurt leans over him, joining their mouths together in a mind-blowingly slow build of a kiss. As his tongue finally slips into Blaine’s mouth, a wet finger gently circles his hole. Blaine keens into his mouth, pressing his hips upwards in wanton invitation. Kurt’s lips trail kisses over his jaw, down the side of his neck, as his finger edges its way inside, a pressure that makes Blaine gasp. He shudders as Kurt starts to fuck his finger into him, going a fraction deeper each time he pushes in, working him open like a pro. A pro.

Blaine squeezes his eyes shut, concentrates on Kurt, Kurt’s lips at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, Kurt’s body pressed against his, Kurt’s hard cock pressing against his thigh, Kurt’s finger moving inside him. _Kurt._ But it doesn’t help. This doesn’t help. That itch still burns inside him and if this isn’t what he needs then that means the craving must be for something dark that Kurt can’t give him and that means he’s never going to deserve Kurt. Never.

His breath catches, tears in his eyes, and he tells himself to buck up and push through, but Kurt would be devastated and he’d never trust him again and he doesn’t want to turn this into something toxic.

“I need to stop,” he gasps out.

Kurt lifts his head, his fingers slipping out of Blaine’s body, looking at him with obvious worry on his face.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Blaine rushes to reassure him, not able to stand that heartbroken look on Kurt’s face. “Please don’t think you did anything wrong.”

Kurt’s face softens somewhat, his eyes still full of concern. “What’s going on?”

Blaine shakes his head, tears spilling over. “I’m okay.”

“You’re definitely not,” Kurt says. “You’re crying.” He lifts his clean hand, wiping Blaine’s tears away so softly.

“Yeah, kind of,” Blaine says, giving a little laugh. The smile is genuine though. He loves this man so much. “Can you maybe just hold me for a bit?”

“Of course,” Kurt says.

He rolls off Blaine but pulls him with him, wrapping his arms around Blaine’s body so tight and safe, rocking him slightly as he holds him against his chest. Blaine clings to him, just concentrating on breathing in and out, surrounded by love and warmth. _He’s okay. They’re okay. They’re okay._ He repeats it in his head like a mantra until he stops thinking anything at all.

Kurt’s fingers stroke through his hair, head dipping down to brush lips against his temple before he just looks at him. “Can you tell me what that was about?”

“I don’t know,” Blaine says.

“Okay,” Kurt says. “Do you need to call your sponsor? Or your therapist?”

“I don’t know,” Blaine says again.

Kurt holds him tighter, rubbing firm circles into his back, grounding him.

“It wasn’t what we were doing,” Blaine says. “It was how I was feeling.”

“How were you feeling?” Kurt asks, his voice level and open.

“It’s like this itch,” Blaine says. “That’s the only way I can describe it. But like the kind of itch you get when you have a cut that’s healing, when you just want to gouge your skin out. That’s what it feels like. But it’s my whole body. It used to happen a lot, before I got help, and it’s what made me do all those self-destructive things. Risky sex, selling myself.” He squeezes his eyes shut in shame, curling further into Kurt. “It used to help. It made it go away for a while. And I felt like that tonight, but I don’t know why because I love you and I don’t want to hurt. I don’t want to hurt anymore, Kurt, I don’t want that to be who I am. But I thought maybe sex would help. I thought if you fucked me… I’m so sorry. It didn’t help at all. It made me feel worse. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Maybe you’re just not in the mood,” Kurt suggests.

Blaine frowns, lifting his head to look up at him. “What?”

“You’re busy, you’re stressed, you’re tired,” Kurt says. “We both are. We don’t have to do sexual stuff just because we can.”

“No, but I had that feeling like I needed to just fuck it out,” Blaine says.

“Maybe that feeling is just you being uncomfortable in your own skin,” Kurt says. “That itch. You used to cure it with sex, that doesn’t mean a lack of sex is what caused it. Did you have that itch the entire time you were being celibate?”

Blaine shakes his head.

“What if that itch is just telling you that something’s wrong inside you,” Kurt says. “And those sexual self-destructive tendencies were what helped you bury that at the time, but you’re different now. You know yourself better. You know that you deserve kindness. So maybe that itch was telling you to take a step back. That sex wasn’t the right thing tonight. And that’s okay. It’s not all or nothing. You’re allowed to not be in the mood.”

Blaine stares at him, trying to take it all in. “I was into it,” he insists.

“Your body was,” Kurt agrees. “But you weren’t really having fun, were you?”

Blaine’s eyes fall down. Maybe he was just having sex because he was here, because he could. It makes him feel small, that Kurt can untie those knots in him so easily when Blaine’s been working on this for a year. But he should be grateful, he reminds himself. They’re a team. They’re doing this together.

“I love you,” he says.

“I love you too,” Kurt responds. “Whatever we do or don’t do.”

Blaine smiles at him, feeling his body relax. The itch, he realises, is gone.

“Okay,” Kurt says. “So let’s get cleaned up, put some pjs on, and then spoon until we fall asleep.”

“Can I be the little spoon?” Blaine asks.

“Deal,” Kurt says with an easy smile, rubbing their noses together.

The next morning, after cuddles and a good night’s sleep, everything feels okay again. Blaine is a little shaken by what happened, and his apparent inability to read his own body, but he thinks Kurt might be right. The itch always made him want to hurt himself because he felt like he deserved it. His discomfort felt earned and so he punished himself for it. But being with Kurt could never hurt and so all he did was push further into the thing that gave him discomfort.

He has some things to work through, that much is obvious. He might have fit the puzzle pieces of love and sex back together again, but he needs to work desire into the equation too. Once he opened the floodgates with Kurt, he forgot that sex didn’t have to be a forgone conclusion. Love on its own doesn’t get diluted if you take away the sex for a night.

He talks it all through with his therapist a couple of days later, spilling the story and his reactions and Kurt’s insights.

“And what do you think?” Henry asks, looking across the space at Blaine.

“I think he’s right,” Blaine says.

Henry gives an almost imperceptible nod. “But you still wanted to talk about it with me, which tells me that something is still troubling you.”

Blaine sighs, sagging back in his chair, his eyes falling down to his lap. “I didn’t know that I didn’t want it. Not when we started. But I got it really wrong. And then I just…” His breath catches in his throat. He looks up at Henry. “Do you think I have to restart my chip count? Should I go back to day one? I’m so close to nine months, but I can’t cheat.”

“Why do you think you cheated?” Henry asks. “We’ve spoken about recovery versus celibacy before. You were content with your own conclusion and I agree with you.”

“Right, celibacy isn’t my journey,” Blaine agrees. “But smart choices is. And I made a really bad choice.”

“I believe you made it in good faith,” Henry says. “Do you believe that?”

“I don’t know,” Blaine says.

“Let me put it this way,” Henry says. “Hypothetical. You’re an alcoholic. You’re at a party and you drink some punch. It has vodka in it. You didn’t know that when you took a sip. Does that mean you have to restart your chip count?”

“I mean, I don’t know, shouldn’t I ask before I go drinking things?” Blaine says.

“An oversight,” Henry says. “Made in good faith. And you didn’t drink the rest of the cup. You had the strength to recognise the mistake and pour it down the sink, and then you asked for a soda instead. I’d say that’s a pretty smart choice. And now you know that sometimes you need to ask what’s in a drink before you accept it. Or you know to ask yourself before initiating something sexual with Kurt.”

“That makes sense,” Blaine allows.

“Questioning your own body and your motivations can be really hard, Blaine,” Henry says. “It can mess with your head and make you second guess everything. But it will click. It will become second nature to you. Habits take time. You’re still learning and that’s okay. That’s a part of recovery. You didn’t fall off the wagon, you just went over a bump in the road.”

Blaine nods, feeling a rush of relief. “Right,” he says, giving a little smile.

Later that week, he gets a text from Kurt while he’s at rehearsal. _The deal is on._ Blaine can’t help beaming at his phone. Kurt has worked so hard for this. It means more late nights in his future, but Blaine’s schedule is ramping up too. That evening, when he finally gets out of the theatre, he goes straight over to Kurt’s design space. June is still there, sitting at her desk.

“I hope he’s paying you overtime,” Blaine comments.

“I always get a big bonus after Fashion Week,” she says with a wink.

“He could at least not make you sit in a corridor,” Blaine responds.

“It’s an outer office,” June says. “And trust me, I’d rather be here in the quiet than in the insanity through that door. Kurt’s the only one left now though. I’ll buy you lunch if you can get him to go home. I don’t want to have to deal with the amount of coffee he’s going to need tomorrow if he doesn’t go soon.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Blaine says. He’s not making any promises. Kurt no doubt has a list as long as his arm of tiny little jobs that need doing perfectly before everything drops next week.

He steps through to the design space, the lights down low, and goes straight to Kurt’s office, rapping his knuckles on the door, not waiting for a response before he walks in. Kurt is sat at his desk, tired eyes looking up from his laptop. He smiles when he sees Blaine.

“Hey you.”

“Hey superstar,” Blaine responds, leaning down to place a chaste kiss against his lips. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Kurt says, but he sounds exhausted.

“More work?” Blaine guesses.

“Actually, no,” Kurt says. “All the designs and branding is approved, they have their own manufacturing so I’ll just need to go in and quality check so I can sign off as being happy to have my name on it, and then they’re running the PR. June’s going to put our own press release together to coincide, but the majority of the workload is with them. Which should be a relief, but I’m kind of freaking out because this is a big deal.”

“It is a big deal,” Blaine agrees, moving behind him to rub his shoulders. “Which you deserve because you’ve put the work in and so now you get to sit back and reap the rewards.”

Kurt drops his head forward with a groan. “That feels really good.”

“Mmmhmm,” Blaine agrees, working the tense muscles as he leans forward, lips brushing over Kurt’s temple, trailing down the side of his face. “So relax,” he says, voice hushed. “You got this. And I got you.” He kisses the curve of his neck.

“Come here,” Kurt says, lifting his head.

He turns in his chair as Blaine moves to join him, letting himself be guided into Kurt’s lap. He settles there, leaning his weight into Kurt, running his fingers up and down Kurt’s bicep as he nuzzles at his neck.

“You wanna go home?” Blaine asks.

“I do,” Kurt says. “But not really for that. Sorry.”

Blaine feels rejection jabbing at him. He’s not good enough. He’s not wanted. Invasive thoughts that experience tells him aren’t true. They’ve had sex since the disaster the other night, really good sex, life affirming, love affirming sex. Kurt isn’t pushing him away. It’s the opposite, Kurt is holding him close because that’s where he wants him. Blaine didn’t break it.

“I’m really good at cuddles,” he says.

Kurt smiles at him. “You really are.” He presses a kiss against Blaine’s cheek. “Take me home.”

“Okay,” Blaine agrees, getting to his feet so Kurt can shut down his laptop. He grabs Kurt’s jacket from the coatrack, helping him put it on before taking hold of his hand and leading him towards the door.


	9. Chapter 9

The RSVPs come in from the old glee club for Kurt’s show, and Blaine tries very hard not to think about what happened this time last year. He can hardly even believe that that was him, but sometimes he can’t believe that this is him either.

And just like last year, they meet up the night before the show for drinks. This time, Blaine is going to be on Kurt’s arm instead of in an alley with another man and a fistful of dirty cash. He’s going to get it right. How many people get a second chance like that?

He already has his outfit for the show tomorrow picked out, Kurt approved. The last thing Blaine wanted to do was embarrass him on his big night, so he’d asked Kurt to come around and help him put an outfit together. Kurt had a lot of fun making Blaine play dress up, but Blaine has a feeling that he knew all along what he was going to pick out. He pulled pieces from Blaine’s closet with confidence, placing them all on a hanger, accessories included, before presenting it to Blaine with a flourish.

He looks at it now, dangling from a light fixture on the wall, ready to go. It gives him such a buzz, to know that Kurt will feel proud to be seen with him. For now though, he needs to get dressed for the drinks that will probably somehow turn into singalongs and dancing on tables. Some things never change.

It’s just casual though, just friends, so he picks out a shirt that Kurt has mentioned he looks nice in, pairs it with a complementary bowtie, and grabs a bright pair of chinos. He looks in the mirror. It’s perfectly him. He likes that he can feel proud of that.

As he grabs his keys, his eyes land on the camera he took from his parents’ house before he left. He was going to use it to document his journey, to explore his new perspective on life. He took it to the park once, and snapped some photographs on the High Line, but he ended up being too busy living to stop and take photographs. He doesn’t regret that, but his life doesn’t feel as vivid and illustrated as he’d like as he looks at the empty walls of his apartment. He smiles to himself as an idea strikes him, grabbing the camera on the way out of the door.

He meets Sam and Tina on the subway. New York might not be Sam’s favourite place, but he still remembers how to get around the city. There’s hugs and excitement and catching up as they make their way to Midtown. Blaine loves how easily the three of them slot together again. Kurt, Rachel and Jesse are chatting outside the bar when they get there and there’s more hugs, a messy tangle as everyone tries to greet everyone. Blaine saves Kurt for last so that he doesn’t have to let go.

“Shall we go inside?” Kurt asks, arm still comfortably around Blaine’s waist.

“Not without me you don’t,” Santana says, striding towards them, hand in hand with Brittany.

“Hi, guys,” Brittany says with a happy wave.

More hugs, more greetings, Blaine reluctantly parting from Kurt. Santana steps up in front of him, jabbing a finger at his chest.

“I heard about last year,” she says. “I am not missing a second of this year’s sex scandal.”

Blaine shrinks back, unable to help himself. “Yeah, we’re really boring and happy this year. Sorry.”

“Alright, listen, as much as I’m pissed that I missed out on that soap opera level theatrics last year, this guy,” she points at Kurt, “Is my family, and no one messes with my family. Get it?”

“I get it,” Blaine assures her.

“Santana, put your claws away,” Kurt says, sounding bored. His hand slips back around Blaine’s waist though.

“I’m watching you,” Santana mouths at Blaine.

“Let’s go get some drinks,” Rachel says brightly.

“Sounds like the first round’s on Berry,” Santana says.

Rachel’s mouth presses into a hard line but she leads the way to the bar.

When they finally get settled around a table, orders given and drinks passed around to their respective owners, Blaine reaches into his bag, taking out his camera and placing it in the middle of the table.

“I have a request.”

“Is it kinky?” Sam asks.

Blaine looks at him. “Why would it be kinky?”

Sam shrugs. “I don’t know,” he mumbles. “Camera.”

“I don’t even want to know,” Blaine says. He turns back to the table. “I wanted to try something. I wanted to get a photo from everyone showing their perspective. It can be of anything, but it should say something about you. It should tell a story. And you don’t have to tell me that story. It’s just that you guys are all really important to me and I don’t ever want any of your to be strangers again, no matter what else might happen.”

“Oh my god, wait a minute,” Santana says. “There’s no drama this year _and_ we get a homework assignment?” She turns to Brittany. “We should have stayed at home.”

“I think it’s sweet,” Brittany says. She smiles at Blaine. “I like it.”

Santana rolls her eyes, but if there’s one thing in the world that can make her soft, its Brittany.

“I agree,” Rachel says. “I’m all about living in the moment, but documenting the moments makes them last longer. It’s nice to have something tangible to remind you of who you are. And what you love.”

“Right,” Blaine agrees. “And it’s not mandatory,” he says pointedly to Santana. “Just if anyone wants to contribute.”

“I am definitely doing it,” Tina says.

“Thank you, Tina,” Blaine says.

“I think it’s a lovely idea,” Kurt says, shifting closer and taking hold of Blaine’s hand. Blaine smiles at him.

“You two are totally going to be the next to get married,” Brittany says.

“No,” Blaine responds.

“Nuh-uh,” Kurt says with a shake of his head.

“Uh, excuse me!” Rachel interjects, thrusting her engagement ring forward with an outraged look on her face.

“Oh, yeah, I heard you picked Lady Hummel as your maid of honour,” Santana says. She looks at Kurt. “What colour is your dress going to be?”

Kurt gives her a tired look. “You’re just jealous my legs are better than yours.”

“Who wants to hear the proposal story?” Rachel asks. “It’s amazing.”

“Oh, yes, tell us everything,” Tina says, leaning in.

“Okay,” Rachel says, already beaming. Blaine has heard this story already, more than once, but he loves the look on Rachel’s face every time she tells it. “So, Monday night is dark night on Broadway, which means we don’t have a show, but Jesse asked me to come to the theatre because he wanted to run something by me. I go to meet him and he’s up on the stage with a spotlight on him. He tells me to take a seat, and then he cues up an instrumental track that he pre-recorded with the orchestra and he sings me this song that he wrote. A song about us. It’s so beautiful and touching and personal. I cried. A lot. And then he asked me to join him on the stage and he got out a ring box and got down on one knee and he asked me to marry him.” She looks down at the ring on her finger, eyes sparkling brighter than the diamond.

“Go big or go home, huh?” Sam comments.

“When you’re with someone who lives life as out loud as Rachel Berry, sometimes you have to make a little more noise to get heard,” Jesse says, looking at her fondly.

“I think it’s so romantic,” Tina says. Blaine recognises that crack in her voice, wordlessly handing her a napkin.

“Did your song include the time you threw an egg at her head?” Santana asks.

“Yes,” Jesse says, giving her a challenging look. “We don’t believe in sugarcoating the truth.”

Santana sighs. “You’re all so righteous and boring.”

“Santana,” Rachel says calmly. “We all love you. And you have nothing to be angry about, so stop sniping.”

“You both have horrible taste in men, I’m just looking out for you,” Santana responds.

“I guess that’s as close to an _I love you too_ as we’re going to get,” Rachel says.

“Look, I’m not here for a love in and I’m not here to talk about you and your diamond and your boyfriend who likes to crack eggs on your face,” Santana says. “I’m here to support Kurt, who is incredible and inspirational and irritatingly successful.”

“Thank you,” Kurt says. “I think. And by the way, nobody is allowed to leave before midnight. That’s when the collab drops and I am going to need all of you to be here.”

“It’s going to be fine,” Blaine assures him. “The pieces are great, everyone is going to love them, and it’s going to create even more buzz around your show tomorrow.”

Kurt contemplates that for a second. “I need a shot.”

“I thought you didn’t want to drink tonight,” Blaine says.

“I don’t,” Kurt agrees. “But I think I would like an emergency shot to be sitting on the table in front of me in case I need it. I think that would make me feel better.”

“On it!” Sam says, getting to his feet and heading for the bar.

“Okay, so, you guys have to fill me in on all the New York gossip,” Tina says.

They talk, sharing stories, giving life updates, reminiscing like they always end up doing when they’re all together. Blaine loves that these people are in his life again. He used to feel so disconnected from himself, and that made him disconnect from everyone who knew that version of him. But he’s back in his own skin now, back in his own head, and he wants these links to his past and who he was and how far he’s come. He doesn’t want to let go again. Not of any of it.

He notices people picking up the camera throughout the night, but he doesn’t pay too much attention to it. He’ll get to see them later. Kurt is constantly checking his phone, getting more and more nervous as midnight approaches. He never touches his shot though. Blaine keeps drawing him back into the conversation and Kurt lets himself get swept up in it, but the slightest lull has him staring at his screen again.

“I feel like Cinderella,” he says as the minutes tick away to midnight.

“You’re like the anti-Cinderella,” Blaine says. “You’re going to turn into… the opposite of a pumpkin.”

“You’re going to turn into a pretty princess,” Santana smirks.

“Joke’s on you, I’m already a pretty princess,” Kurt says.

“And he has the tiaras to prove it,” Rachel says.

“Alright, one minute,” Kurt says. Sam edges the shot closer to him. Kurt takes a breath. “Was this a good idea?”

“It’s a great idea,” Blaine insists.

“A recognised brand is jumping on your talent,” Rachel says. “This can only mean good things for you.”

“And a nice payday, right?” Santana asks. “What’s your cut?”

“Generous,” Kurt says. “I can’t believe this is happening. Is this a dream? Am I going to wake up back in Lima with a rejection letter from NYADA?”

Brittany leans in closer to him. “You can time travel too?” she asks in a hushed voice.

“Not now, babe,” Santana says, patting her hand.

“Kurt, you worked your ass off for this,” Rachel says. “Shed the imposter syndrome and celebrate yourself.”

“Oh god, it’s live,” Kurt says. He puts his phone down on the table, pushing it away from himself. “I can’t look at this.”

Santana grabs his phone. “I can.” She scrolls through the page that Kurt has open. “They are putting you front and centre. This is great marketing.”

“I don’t think I can breathe,” Kurt says.

“Will you stop,” Santana responds. “They’re not just putting their name alongside your designs, Kurt, they’re putting it next to your name. They’re spotlighting you. Anyone who doesn’t know your name already is going to know it by this time tomorrow.”

Kurt looks ill. He grabs the shot, downing it before wincing.

“This is good news, why are you freaking out?” Santana asks.

“I don’t want to be a flash in the pan,” Kurt says. “I don’t want to go viral and then disappear like a one hit wonder. I’ve put everything into this. Literally everything. I was building steadily and making a name for myself in the right circles, and now I’m about to come under some seriously scrutiny and what if I didn’t build strong enough foundations? What am I going to do if this crumbles?”

“Bounce back,” Santana says. “Probably elope with your boyfriend who really does seem to have turned over a new leaf, but I’m still watching him. You’ll do something. Your life won’t be over, and passion always wins out in the end. It would suck for a while, but then you’d find a new way to be successful. And none of this even matters, because you’re not going to fail. You have magical elfin fingers and a work ethic that doesn’t quit. You’re charming and you’re adorable and you have talent, Kurt. You’re going to make it.” She turns the phone towards him, showing him the marketing page. “You already did.”

Kurt smiles at her. “Thank you.”

“You know I only speak the truth,” Santana says simply, handing his phone over to him. Nobody can argue with that.

When they finally leave, Blaine offers to stay with Kurt for the night, but Kurt insists that he’s not going to be good company and he’d rather just prepare for tomorrow and try and get some sleep. He leaves in a cab with Rachel and Jesse and Blaine heads for the subway with Sam and Tina. Brittany took the camera home with her, saying she knew what she wanted her photograph to be of, and Blaine had happily let it go. He’d trust these people with his life, he can trust them with a camera.

The next day, he dresses up in the outfit that Kurt set out for him and heads to the venue. Kurt got him a backstage pass to get him into the dressing area and so Blaine makes sure he arrives early, ready to do menial jobs, work damage control, calm Kurt’s anxious nerves, or just stay out of the way. Whatever he needs.

Backstage is a whirlwind of half-dressed models, people chatting on radios, outfits and accessories being moved around, the air misted with hairspray. Blaine looks around, spotting June with a clipboard and a look of determination on her face. She makes eye-contact with him and then nods across the room. Kurt is standing at one of the clothing rails, checking over each item in turn. Blaine makes his way over there, letting Kurt get to the end of the rail before catching his eye.

“Hi!” Kurt says brightly, pulling him into a hug. He pushes him back again, looking him over. “You look really hot. Thank you.”

“Thank you for looking hot?” Blaine asks.

Kurt shrugs. “It doesn’t hurt my reputation.” He leans in to kiss Blaine on the cheek, softening the words with clear affection. “It is also a wonderful distraction.”

“How are you doing?” Blaine asks.

“I am in such a state panic that I have progressed past feeling anything,” Kurt says.

“Is that a good thing?” Blaine asks.

“I guess we’ll find out,” Kurt says.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Blaine asks.

“It’s under control,” Kurt tells him. “I have checked and double checked everything, and once the models are in their first outfits I will check and double check it all again. But right now, everything is on track. Which kind of makes me feel like I must have forgotten something.”

“I’m certain that’s not possible,” Blaine says. He smiles at him, feeling a swell of emotion. “I am so proud of you.”

“Thank you,” Kurt says, looking touched. “Your opinion means more to me than any of those journalists out there.”

“Well, I’ve been following the collab news all morning and they seem pretty impressed by you too,” Blaine says.

“I’d still rather just have you,” Kurt says, looking at him with such love.

“You’ve got me,” Blaine assures him, wrapping his arms around Kurt’s waist.

“I know,” Kurt says, not the slightest hint of doubt in his voice. He leans in, kissing Blaine on the lips. “I love this year. It feels like everything’s fallen into place. You know what I mean?”

“I know exactly what you mean,” Blaine agrees, leaning in for another chaste kiss. “Give me something to do. I want to help.”

“Oh, you do, Blaine Anderson, more than you know,” Kurt says. He looks at his watch. “Rachel and Jesse should be here by now. Go find them and then talk loudly about how amazing I am within earshot of the press.”

“Well, I do that everywhere I go anyway,” Blaine responds with a smirk.

“I love you,” Kurt says.

“Love you too,” Blaine responds. “Text me if you need anything. I’ll see you later.”

The show is incredible. The lights, the music, the visuals, it all fits together perfectly and it gives Blaine goosebumps. It’s immediately obvious how much work has gone into every aspect of this show, every detail meticulously planned out, all of it working together to show off Kurt’s designs and branding.

The place is packed and the reception is great. When Kurt comes out at the end to take a bow and say a few words, everyone scrambles for photographs and Blaine’s hands hurt from clapping as tears of joy fill his eyes. Kurt deserves every bit of adoration that he’s getting, but somehow Blaine is lucky enough to be the one who gets him at the end of the night. He’s worked damn hard to be worthy of that and he’s not going to take it for granted for a second.

When Kurt finally manages to join them after all the press and the networking, he’s practically vibrating, a ball of energy. He hugs all of them and talks at a million miles an hour in disjointed sentences, clearly not able to process everything himself yet.

“You are about to go supernova, Hummel,” Santana says.

“We need to celebrate,” Rachel says.

“Okay,” Kurt agrees. “But I’m not going out. I need to take my shoes off and lie on someone’s couch.” He gives Rachel a look of utter, irresistible sweetness.

“Oh, I’m hosting an impromptu party now?” Rachel asks.

“You have the biggest apartment,” Kurt says.

“And you _love_ to host,” Santana adds.

“I’ve never seen your apartment!” Tina says excitedly.

Rachel turns to Jesse, raising her eyebrows at him. He shrugs.

“We are perfectly set-up to entertain at a moment’s notice.”

“Alright,” Rachel agrees. “Everyone back to ours then.”

The party is much more chilled than the night before. True to his word, Kurt toes off his shoes, hangs his jacket up, and then flops down on Rachel and Jesse’s couch and doesn’t move for the remainder of the evening. Blaine snuggles into his side, idly drawing patterns on Kurt’s arms, getting the occasional noise of approval in response. It feels so intimate. The whole night feels intimate.

Sam sits at Blaine’s other side and Brittany and Santana sit together on the loveseat. Jesse takes up residence on the piano bench, occasionally playing little refrains, but nobody bursts into song. Blaine is kind of glad. They’re not total clichés. Tina keeps picking things up to look at them, meaning that Rachel spends the majority of the night following her around and safely putting them back in their places.

The air is filled with celebration and possibility, even though the mood is subdued. They just chat, all of the gossip and interesting stories spilled last night, so they talk about what’s left, the little things and the big things, what they have and what they want. Blaine doesn’t remember ever feeling so content.

“I love everyone in this room,” Kurt says. “But I need to go to bed.”

“You can stay in the guestroom,” Rachel offers.

“I’d rather go home,” Kurt says. “But thanks.”

“You have a guest room?” Tina asks. “Now I know that, I can just stay with you guys when I come back to New York for Blaine’s opening night.”

“Oh, uh, I guess you can,” Rachel says hesitantly, looking at Jesse. He sips his drink, trying to hide his smirk.

“I’m very comfortable couchsurfing,” Sam says. “And this is an excellent couch. Just putting it out there.”

“We’ll talk about this nearer the time,” Rachel says with a wave of her hand.

“I have never been so glad to not have a guestroom,” Santana says, getting to her feet.

Kurt turns to Blaine. “Are you coming home with me?”

Blaine smiles. “Every chance I get.”

Sam wolf whistles beside them. Blaine gives him a look.

Before the end of the week, Blaine gets the photographs printed off from his camera and takes them to Kurt’s apartment where everyone is meeting up one more time before they go their separate ways. He places them on Kurt’s kitchen counter along with a selection of coloured markers.

“Nobody leaves without signing their photo,” he says. “I want to put them in my apartment so you’re always with me and to remind me that there’s always another perspective.”

“Awww,” Santana says. “How nauseating.”

They order takeout and sit around the coffee table, using cushions from the couch to sit on the floor. It’s strange, the juxtaposition of Kurt’s glamourous apartment and them acting like they’re still in college and can’t afford real furniture. Maybe you _can_ go back home again.

Blaine doesn’t look at the photographs until he gets back to his apartment the following day, wanting time to really appreciate them. Sam signed in black pen, his photo of the callouses on his fingertips from playing the guitar. Tina’s photo is of the napkin Blaine had handed her to wipe her tears, slightly crinkled and smudged with eyeliner, her name written in purple. Jesse’s is an artistic shot of piano keys and an out of focus Rachel in the background, clearly taken at their apartment during the impromptu party where Brittany had given Blaine his camera back.

Brittany’s own photograph is of some plants in a window box, little buds of flowers starting to form, her fingers crossed in front of them. It looks so hopeful. Each letter of her name is a different colour and she added a little picture of a cat. Santana’s photo is her and Brittany’s hands placed together on the sticky table of the bar, their wedding rings touching, her name signed in red pen. Rachel, of course, chose gold for her name, adding a little star after it. Her photograph is of her perfectly manicured hand straightening Kurt’s pocket square.

And then there’s Kurt’s photograph, his name written in blue pen with a kiss after it. The photograph is a shot under the table at the bar, all of their feet slotting together somehow in the dark space, each of their shoes seeming to tell a story about them. Blaine’s own foot is hooked around Kurt’s ankle. He doesn’t even remember doing that, but it looks so right.

They’re all wonderfully abstract and so full of heart, Blaine wants to hug them all and cry like a baby. Instead, he goes to the store and buys some frames, making his own little art gallery on his wall. He literally couldn’t ask for anything more. Now he just needs to add a photograph from his own perspective.

Once Fashion Week is over, Blaine feels like he’s barrelling towards opening night in a train without brakes. Previews come and go and time with Kurt feels like stolen moments at best. But Kurt’s schedule has calmed down a lot, dealing with orders and buyers rather than designs and event planning, so he’s the one who comes by the theatre late to hang out with Blaine, making sure he eats and gets all the hugs and shoulder rubs and encouragement he could ever need. It’s a pretty sweet deal.

He doesn’t let Kurt come and see any of the preview shows though. He wants to get all the messy, awkward pacing problems and mistimed punchlines out of the way before he shows it to Kurt. He knows that there’s no such thing as perfection or a finished product. A show will always grow and evolve, it’s like a living thing, but he wants to give it the best chance to shine, and he knows that opening night energy is what he wants to share with the people he loves.

He gets his nine month chip the week of opening night. It’s purple and he picks out the perfect outfit to complement it before he goes to share it with Kurt.

“That looks good on you,” Kurt says, leaning in to kiss him on the lips.

“The colour?” Blaine asks.

“The smile,” Kurt responds. “But that is a cute outfit too.”

He pulls Blaine into the apartment, closing the door behind him before they both make their way to the couch.

“It’s kind of weird,” Blaine says, looking down at the chip as he turns it over in the palm of his hand.

“What is?” Kurt asks.

“I have everything I could want,” Blaine says. “I have the perfect boyfriend who I am madly in love with, I have the trusting relationship and the healthy sex life, I’m living in New York and I’m starring in my first big production, my dream job.” He stops, taking a breath. “But this stupid little bit of plastic still means so much to me that I teared up at my meeting.”

“It’s not a stupid piece of plastic,” Kurt says. “It’s blood and sweat and tears and soul searching and picking yourself up when you thought you couldn’t.”

Blaine shrugs. “It kind of still feels like a desperate grab for validation, and that was always my major trigger.” He looks up at Kurt. “Does it really count as winning when I make up the rules? Can I have a nine month recovery chip for sex and love addiction when I’m having a sexual relationship with someone I’m in love with?”

“Yes,” Kurt says simply. “Trusting and healthy. Your words. And you told me a long time ago it was never about celibacy.”

Blaine nods, letting out a breath. “I still get really scared sometimes that I’m going to screw this up. And I know that that fear is what screws it up.”

“And that’s why you go to meetings,” Kurt says. “That’s why you see your therapist. Those are the things that help you make smart choices, and keep getting those pretty chips that inspire such beautiful outfits. Just three more months and you get your shiny one year chip, right?”

“Three more months,” Blaine agrees, feeling a swell of excitement.

“You got this,” Kurt says. “And I got you.”

Blaine smiles at him, reaching out to take his hand. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Kurt says. “So, what outfit is going to go with a metallic chip?”

“It might have to include sequins,” Blaine says.

Kurt smiles at the thought. “I could design something for you!”

Blaine laughs. “Or we could make out.”

“We could make out,” Kurt agrees, already leaning in to close the gap between them.

The rest of the week is a blur of final rehearsals and costume fittings and finetuning every detail while also trying to co-ordinate people’s travel plans. Tina and Sam somehow convince Rachel and Jesse to let them stay at their apartment, and Blaine would kind of like to be a fly on the wall of that arrangement. He’s handing his own apartment over to his parents for the night, arranging to stay with Kurt. They said they were fine with a hotel, and maybe they’d be happier there, but Blaine is proud of his little space, proud that he’s able to provide for them while they visit. It’s a good feeling and he wants to show how grateful he is that they’ve come out to support him.

He meets them downstairs, carrying their bags up for them, wanting to show how capable he can be. He thinks this might be the first time he’s truly felt this way in his life. It’s so empowering.

“So, this is it,” he says, putting their bags down. “I left the bed pulled out and made up for you, all clean sheets, so it’s ready, but if you want you can fold it back to a couch.”

His father frowns, seeming unsure.

“There’s clean towels in the bathroom,” he says, making his way over to the kitchen area. “Coffee is in here, glasses and cups, help yourself to anything. Oh, and Kurt made you cookies. They’re really good.”

His father smiles at that. “Kurt,” he says, as though that’s the only thing he heard.

“Kurt,” Blaine agrees. “Again.”

“Well, good for you,” his dad tells him. “That boy is unique, but it works.”

“It does,” Blaine says.

His dad gives him a nod, such a tiny motion, but it’s all the acceptance Blaine has ever craved from him.

“We are so proud of you,” his mom says.

“We are,” his dad agrees.

“It’s so wonderful,” his mom continues. “I can’t wait to see you up there. Broadway!”

“ _Off_ -Broadway,” Blaine says. “We’ve been through this, mom.”

“It’s New York City theatre, I don’t care what street it’s on,” she dismisses.

“It’s actually more to do with seat numbers,” Blaine says. “But that’s beside the point. I’m not going to win a Tony, but it’s still a pretty big break. It’s huge. I can’t wait for you to see it, we’ve worked so hard.” He walks over to the nightstand. “Tickets are here,” he says, handing the envelope to his mother. “Kurt and Rachel and the others will be sitting with you. Please be nice to them.”

“They’re all getting big hugs,” his mom assures him.

Blaine smiles. “Thank you.” He looks around. “Okay,” he says. “I’m going to head to the theatre. I already dropped my stuff off at Kurt’s so I won’t need to bother you, but call me if you need anything, okay? Here’s the keys.”

“Don’t worry, we won’t throw any wild parties,” his dad jokes.

“I might,” his mom replies.

Blaine laughs, shaking his head. “I’ll see you tonight.”

At the theatre, things are surprisingly calm, and Blaine is too. They run through some last minute details and Dylan calls them all together for what’s as close as he’d probably ever get to a pep talk. Dylan’s not one for inspirational speeches or stroking egos, but through the process of putting this show together, he’s made them all feel so empowered and listened to that they don’t really have any doubts. He’s prepared them for this, and now he trusts them to go out there and tell his story.

Blaine sits in his dressing room before the show, letting his co-star Jessica touch up his stage make-up before fussing with her hair in front of his mirror. They all have their own dressing rooms but they’re kind of used to being on top of each other. Blaine doesn’t really want to be alone with his own thoughts right now anyway, he has a feeling they might spiral.

There’s a knock on his door and he turns to see Kurt sticking his head in. Blaine grins, getting to his feet and pulling him into a hug. As he comes into the room, Rachel, Sam and Tina follow after him.

“It’s so great to see you guys,” Blaine says.

“We had to come and tell you to break a leg on your opening night,” Rachel says.

“Well, thank you,” Blaine says. “This is Jessica, she’s one of my co-stars.”

“Our characters hate each other,” Jessica says, getting up from the mirror. “Which is a real acting challenge because this guy is a sweetheart.”

“Isn’t he,” Kurt responds.

Jessica looks at him. “Okay, Mr. Stylish, hair check,” she says, presenting herself to him.

“I do clothes, I don’t do hair,” Kurt responds. Jessica just looks at him levelly. Kurt sighs, moving closer and adjusting her hair ever so slightly in the perfectionist way that only he could.

“Thank you,” she says brightly before turning to Blaine. “I’ll see you out there, champ.”

Blaine gives her a smile and a nod as she heads out of the door. And then he feels himself deflate. “Okay, it all feels very real now.”

“It’s exciting,” Rachel says. “Enjoy every minute you’re up there. This is your moment.”

“Your name is going to be in lights,” Tina says. “You’ll be the biggest star on Broadway in no time.”

“Second biggest,” Rachel corrects, preening slightly.

Kurt steps in closer, placing a hand on his arm. “You know you’ve got this.”

Blaine nods. “Yeah.” He does know. He still feels like he might throw up though.

“I know what you need,” Sam says decisively. He looks at them all and then sticks his hand out, palm down. “Show circle.”

Blaine laughs.

“Oh, I am serious, you better all get your hands in here,” Sam says.

Tina smiles, placing her hand in, followed by Rachel, then Kurt. Blaine feels a swell of love in his chest and it slows his beating heart. He places his hand in.

“One, two, three…”

“Aaaaaaamazing,” they all shout together, throwing their hands up in the air.

It makes Blaine feel incredible. It makes him feel like he can do anything. It always did.

“Okay, we better get to our seats,” Sam says. “You good?”

“I’m very good,” Blaine says with confidence.

Sam winks at him, slapping him on the shoulder as they all start to move towards the door. Kurt steps up to Blaine.

“Break a leg,” he whispers, placing a kiss on his lips.

The show is incredible. As soon as Blaine steps out onto that stage, it’s like it all slots into place. After rehearsals and previews, he thought he knew how he’d feel under the lights, in front of a crowd, but opening night is different. Opening night is special. It means something.

Blaine is so certain of his place in the world as his comedic timing hits all the laughs and his big solo gets a rapturous applause. He deserves to be here. He’s not asking for permission or reassurance anymore. He just wants to show them what he’s got.

He tears up at the curtain call, hand in hand with his castmates, taking a bow, the audience’s cheers and applause echoing in his ears. As soon as they’re off-stage, they’re hugging and jumping up and down in the wings, giddy and exhausted and so relieved. They couldn’t have asked for a better opening night.

“I would like to thank each and every one of you for proving I was right in casting you,” Dylan tells them. “You told my story beautifully.”

“Wow, calm down, Dylan, you’re getting a little emotional there,” Jessica says.

Dylan shrugs. “What can I say? You moved me. Now go do whatever young people do when they have a success and I will see you tomorrow to do it all over again.”

As they head back to their dressing rooms, they discuss possible afterparty locations. Blaine kind of just wants to go collapse at Kurt’s place, but maybe a drink and a bit of a dance would get rid of some of this excess adrenaline that’s pumping through his body.

When he gets to his dressing room he sees Kurt standing there, a bunch of flowers in his hands. Blaine stops in the doorway, blinking at him, tears threatening to fall again.

“Kurt,” he says, feeling overwhelmed.

Kurt just smiles at him, holding out the flowers. “Opening night tradition.”

“They’re beautiful,” Blaine says, lifting them up to smell them. “Thank you,” he says, pulling him into a hug, clinging to him.

“You’re welcome,” Kurt says. “You were fantastic. You put so much heart into it, it really showed. Everybody loved it.”

Blaine pulls back to look at him. “I’m so glad you liked it.”

“ _Loved_ it,” Kurt emphasises. “And love you.”

“Love you too,” Blaine says. He looks down at his flowers. “Wow. I guess I should put these in some water.”

“I can take care of it,” Kurt says. “You get out of costume and get your things together. Your adoring fans await.”

Blaine laughs but hands the flowers over, getting back into his street clothes. When he walks out to meet his friends, Tina jumps on him immediately with a squeal.

“Blainey Days! You were so brilliant!”

“Thanks,” Blaine says, hugging her back, feeling a little dazed by all the praise.

Rachel steps up to him. “I am going to mention your name to some people I know and make sure they come and see this show,” she tells him.

“You don’t have to do that,” Blaine says. “I just want to enjoy it. I want it to speak for itself.”

“It can only do that if people come see it,” Rachel points out. “Don’t feel like having connections is cheating. We’ve all done it. Do you think Kurt would be as big as he is without his Vogue contacts? I only got back on Broadway because of Jesse.”

“And I’m pretty sure no one but Mr Schue would have put me in charge of a show choir,” Sam agrees.

“You’ll succeed because you’re great,” Rachel says. “And if you’re not great, you won’t. You know what they say, luck is when hard work meets opportunity. Never turn down an opportunity.”

“She has a point,” Kurt agrees.

“Yeah, I don’t think I can get my head around all this right now,” Blaine says. He turns to his parents who have been standing off to the side, letting him have his moment with his friends. “What did you think?” His heart pounds in his chest and he feels like a little kid again.

“You have always been so talented,” his mom says. “I’m so glad everyone else gets to see it now too.”

His dad nods. “I guess all those dance lessons weren’t a total waste.” He smiles, stepping up to Blaine. “You did great. And your apartment is lacking some rooms, a couch should not be the same piece of furniture as a bed, but you’ve built a very positive life here.” He looks at Blaine’s friends, eyes lingering on Kurt. Blaine gives him a look. “I’m glad you’re happy,” his dad says.

“Thank you,” Blaine says.

“Really though, you need more rooms,” his dad says.

“When I start earning more money, I’ll get right on that,” Blaine agrees.

“I bet Kurt’s apartment has rooms,” his dad continues, looking over at Kurt. “Are your couch and your bed the same piece of furniture?”

“They are not,” Kurt says. “They’re in completely different rooms with walls and a door between them.”

Blaine’s dad nods, looking at Blaine. “You should look into that.”

“Yeah, okay, I get it, you can stop being supportive now,” Blaine says, giving him a pointed look. It’s nice to be able to share a joke with his dad though. It’s nice to feel accepted.

“Blaine,” Jessica shouts across the room. “Get your cute ass over here, we’re going to party! Also, which of your hot friends are single?”

“None of them,” Blaine tells her.

“No, I am,” Sam says. He looks across the room to Jessica. “I’m single.”

“Good to know,” she responds with a smirk.

“What happened to Molly?” Blaine asks.

“We broke up,” Sam says dismissively, as though it’s completely inconsequential. He sighs. “No one is ever going to make as good a wife as you, you set the bar too high.”

“Excuse me?” Kurt asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t ask,” Blaine dismisses. He turns back to Jessica. “I’m coming for one drink.”

“We’ll see,” Jessica responds.

“Well, we’ll leave you kids to it then,” Blaine’s dad says.

“Thanks so much for coming,” Blaine says. “It really means so much to me. And I’m going to see you both for brunch tomorrow.”

“You will,” his dad agrees, pulling him into a brief hug before they’re on their way.

At the club, Blaine sticks to his one drink limit, he doesn’t want his head to get too fuzzy. He stays longer though, dancing with friends old and new, wanting to remember every moment of this night. There’s a pretty good chance it won’t always be like this forever, he knows that, this is a fickle business and who knows what might be in store for him once this show’s over. So he wants to hold onto this feeling and really cherish it. Right now, he feels invincible, and for the first time in as long as he can remember, he’s actually excited to find out what comes next.

The party spirit is still going strong when Blaine and Kurt decide to call it a night. Tina is dancing on a table and Jessica is draped over Sam. Blaine says his goodbyes with hugs and kisses before heading out hand in hand with Kurt to find a cab.

When they get back to Kurt’s apartment, Kurt heads over to the kitchen. “I’m going to make tea, do you want some?”

“No, thanks,” Blaine says, toeing off his shoes. “I’m going to take a shower actually if that’s okay?”

“Yeah, help yourself,” Kurt says easily. “You want to watch something when you get out?”

“I think I’m just going to crash,” Blaine says. “But I would not say no to cuddles with a pretty boy in soft pyjamas.”

Kurt smiles at him. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Blaine turns the shower on as he steps into the bathroom, letting the water warm up as he looks at himself in the mirror. He doesn’t look any different. But then nothing has really changed. It’s all been such a gradual build and he’s not even sure if he’s at the peak yet. It’s such an exhilarating feeling.

He strips his clothes off and steps under the shower, tilting his head back to let the water soak through his hair, fingers teasing out the product before he reaches for Kurt’s shampoo, washing it fully away. He uses Kurt’s body wash, a scent that always puts him in mind of being pressed close to Kurt’s skin, lathering it over his body and washing any remaining tension away with it.

He shuts the water off, stepping out of the shower and towelling himself off. He brushes his teeth, wraps a towel around his waist, and heads through to the bedroom.

Kurt is sat up in bed, taking a sip of his tea before tapping away at the screen on his iPad. It looks so domesticated that Blaine can’t help but stop for a moment and take it in.

“Hey,” Kurt says softly, looking up at him.

“Hey,” Blaine smiles, going over to grab his sleep things.

“I’m just sending an email, I’ll be done in a minute,” Kurt says.

“Take your time,” Blaine dismisses.

He slips into the bed beside Kurt, immediately crowding into his space. He closes his eyes, a deep contentment settling over him as he slings an arm across Kurt’s waist. As Kurt keeps tapping away, Blaine presses closer, bending one leg so that he can rub his feet against Kurt’s. Kurt hums in a way that sounds pleased, shuffling down the bed a bit further so that Blaine can reach him better. Blaine smiles, nuzzling into his side.

“I thought you were going to crash,” Kurt says.

“Yeah,” Blaine agrees, but his fingers creep beneath the hem of Kurt’s shirt.

Kurt reaches over to the nightstand to put his iPad away. “Done,” he says, twisting so that he can get a little space to shimmy down in the bed, face to face with Blaine as he wraps an arm around him, pulling him close again.

“Everything okay?” Blaine asks.

Kurt frowns at him, looking lost. “What?”

“The email,” Blaine prompts, eyes flicking to the nightstand.

“Oh, yeah,” Kurt says. “I was only replying to it now so that the ball is in somebody else’s court and I can have a lie in with my boyfriend tomorrow.”

“You’re so smart,” Blaine says, leaning in to brush their lips together. “And hot,” Blaine says, emphasising with another kiss. “And sexy.” His lips linger on Kurt’s.

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Kurt says, pushing him back into the mattress with a firm kiss.

Blaine grins, wrapping his arms around Kurt’s body to keep him close. He parts his lips, tracing the seam of Kurt’s mouth, groaning when Kurt’s tongue edges out to meet his own. As they kiss, slow and deep, Blaine’s hands wander, first over Kurt’s pyjamas, soft as promised, and then under, fingertips stroking and then grasping. He pulls at Kurt to make his body cover his own fully, hips pressed together, all that wonderful weight and warmth. He moans into Kurt’s mouth, one hand gripping at Kurt’s back, the other sliding past his waistband to grab his ass as he grinds against him.

Kurt pulls back, breathless, eyes blown wide. “I put these pyjamas on just for you.”

“How about you take them off just for me?” Blaine says.

“You make a compelling argument,” Kurt responds, moving back to pull his shirt over his head.

He pushes the material of Blaine’s shirt up and Blaine lifts his arms, more than happy to be undressed. Kurt doesn’t try and remove it though, dipping his head down to kiss across his body, following invisible lines like he’s making a map. Blaine arches his back, making pleased little noises, arms still up against the headboard. Kurt nips at his hip, licks along the line of his waistband, and Blaine lifts his hips up.

Just as Blaine is convinced Kurt is going to slide his pants down, or at least mouth at his cock through the soft material, he’s sitting up, attention back on Blaine’s shirt, Blaine helping him remove it. He shouldn’t be surprised, they haven’t done that yet. Hands below the waist is one thing, blowjobs are something Blaine still has some hang-ups about. All those dirty visuals were gone a moment ago though and he wanted like he hasn’t in a long time. They should talk about that. Later.

He pulls Kurt back to him, kissing him with needy insistence, pressing his hard cock against Kurt’s hip, rubbing against the softness of his pants. Kurt kisses him back, shifts to line up their cocks, and it’s too much but it’s nowhere near enough. Blaine needs skin. He needs more. He needs Kurt.

He pushes Kurt’s pants down with little finesse, both of their hands working messily together to strip first Kurt and then Blaine. That first touch is always electric, when there’s no more barriers between them. It’s such a pure sensation that can never be replicated by anything but this.

They kiss and touch and thrust, Blaine relaxing into it. He has no inhibitions in that moment and no doubts. Everything is good. His life is good. This is good. He’s making smart choices. He trusts himself. And so he asks himself the question. _Do you want this, or do you want to want it?_ He’s overwhelmed by the certainty that settles in his gut. He wants.

“Kurt,” he breathes. “Get the lube.”

“Want it wet?” Kurt asks, already pulling the nightstand drawer open.

Blaine shakes his head. “Want you to fuck me.”

Kurt returns to him, bottle of lube grasped in his hand. He stills for a moment, something careful about his expression. Blaine can tell that he doesn’t want to be condescending. He has to check in though, but he doesn’t do it with words, he does it with his steady, searching gaze. Blaine nods at him, never faltering. Kurt smiles, nodding back, and flips open the lube.

When Kurt’s finger slides inside him this time, Blaine feels himself go molten. He arches up, everything so fluid, his body responding effortlessly as Kurt rocks gradually deeper. The amount of pride he feels makes him let out a breath of laughter at himself. Getting fucked isn’t difficult, he’s done it in far less ideal scenarios than this. But that’s kind of the point. This is the ideal. Nothing is going to stop him relishing that fact and feeling more than a little smug that he’s hit the jackpot.

“Something funny?” Kurt asks, lifting his head with a quirked brow and sparkling eyes.

“I’m just happy,” Blaine says easily.

Kurt smiles at him. “That I can relate to.”

Blaine pulls him down for a kiss, draping his arms over Kurt’s shoulders to keep him close, and to give him some leverage to rock onto Kurt’s finger, making Kurt groan into his mouth. It’s like they’re connected in so many ways. Kurt curls his finger, searching, and once he hits Blaine’s prostate, Blaine’s legs instinctively go around Kurt’s hips as though that will get him more, but all it really does is give Kurt less room to manoeuvre in.

They figure it out, Blaine letting his thighs fall wide open against the mattress with a little encouragement from Kurt whose free hand draws patterns over Blaine’s inner thigh, making him keen. Kurt adjusts his position in the new found space and then he’s crooking his finger again, massaging over Blaine’s prostate. He wants Blaine to feel good. That thought shouldn’t bring tears to Blaine’s eyes.

As Kurt slides a second finger inside him, Blaine places open mouthed kisses over Kurt’s jaw, his neck, his collarbone, wherever he can reach. It’s messy and inexact and so good. Kurt fucks his fingers gradually deeper, Blaine whimpering at the feeling. Kurt’s other hand is stroking down his side, over his hip, along the inside of his thigh and then back again, over and over, reassuring him while lighting up every single nerve ending in his body.

“I might need a while,” Blaine says once Kurt’s fingers are buried as deep as they can go. “I might need this for a while,” Blaine corrects, not wanting Kurt to stop, but not wanting to rush ahead either.

Kurt nods his understanding. “You just let me know.”

Blaine nods, arching his neck and closing his eyes. Kurt’s hand starts to draw out of him, sure and steady, as the fingertips of his other hand keep their rhythmic touches, head dipping down to trail kisses over Blaine’s chest, like he’s painting him in love. It’s too much to process, so Blaine doesn’t even try. He lets go, breathing and moaning and moving his body instinctively with Kurt’s.

Kurt plays the long game, steadily building, brushing deliberately over his prostate every few thrusts, but not dwelling on it, not wanting to push Blaine too close to the edge. It’s so skillful and calculated and it makes Blaine feel safe. He’s in good hands. Sure, dependable hands. Kurt’s hands.

When Kurt’s fingers are moving fluidly inside him, Blaine feels a deep down yearning. It’s not the itch though, it’s nothing like the itch. It’s that feeling he had the night after he and Kurt sang karaoke together, when they’d danced on the stage and Blaine had gone home so certain he was going to fail in his recovery, but he hadn’t, because it wasn’t the itch. It was a good feeling, a feeling that drove him closer to Kurt, the same one that makes Blaine desperate for him now.

“Okay,” he says, hooking a hand clumsily under Kurt’s chin to make him look up.

“Okay?” Kurt checks.

Blaine nods enthusiastically and then Kurt’s fingers are gone. He whines, Kurt giving him an amused look as he reaches for the lube. Blaine takes it out of his hand. He’s been slacking, lying back and enjoying all of Kurt’s wonderful ministrations. He needs to get back in the game. He needs to catch Kurt up.

He flips the lube open, pouring some over his hand and rubbing his thumb over his fingers to warm it up a little. He lifts his head to press a brief kiss against Kurt’s lips before angling his gaze down, the sight making him breathless. Kurt’s cock is hard, deep in colour, straining upwards. It’s leaking at the tip and Blaine wants so badly to taste the drop of precome he can see forming, but instead he reaches down, wrapping his hand around it.

There’s something mesmerising about watching himself stroking Kurt’s cock. It glistens as it passes through his fingers, the head being swallowed up by his fist before popping out again in such a satisfying way as Blaine’s hand slides down to the root and does it all over again. Kurt makes utterly delicious noises, nipping at Blaine’s jaw with his teeth. Blaine lifts his head, looking up at Kurt’s face, and that’s an even more beautiful and debauched sight than his cock.

His lips are kiss swollen and parted, his cheeks coloured pink, sweat lighting up his brow. His pupils are blown wide, his eyes a haze of lust. Blaine stares at him as he keeps stroking his cock, watching how each little variation, a twist of his wrist or a tightening of his fist, plays out across Kurt’s face. Blaine feels so powerful and so utterly in love. He lifts his head, kissing Kurt deeply until his lungs burn, falling back onto the pillow as he pants, staring hazily at Kurt.

“You should fuck me now.”

“Okay,” Kurt agrees, getting into position the second Blaine lets go of his cock.

Blaine lifts his legs then, hooking his feet over Kurt’s hips, lifting himself upwards to make the angle easier. He feels Kurt’s cock pressing at his hole, a heavy pressure, Kurt brushing a kiss against his cheek before he pushes the head inside. They both gasp, bodies tightening together. They look at one another, reading the cues from each other’s bodies, working together until Kurt is all the way inside him, making Blaine feel like he can’t breathe, like nothing else exists but this.

They stay like that for a long moment, catching their breath, hands trailing absently over each other’s skin. Blaine can feel the moment his body gives, rocking his hips instinctively, and he knows Kurt feels it too. They’re as connected as two humans can be. It’s so intimate. He remembers the words that Kurt had echoed from his father, after they broke up that first time, when they were friends who couldn’t stand not being in each other’s lives, no matter how much Blaine didn’t deserve such kindness.

“Don’t go throwing yourself around like you don’t matter,” Kurt had told him at Christmas, after his dad had called it a night and they were talking in hushed voices on the couch. “You matter.”

“You matter,” Blaine says now, looking into Kurt’s eyes.

Kurt smiles, the significance not lost on him. He nods his head, kissing Blaine firmly on the mouth. It leaves Blaine in no doubt that he matters too. He always has, even when he hurt Kurt, even when he was punishing himself, even when he was going down in a spiral of self-destruction and taking Kurt with him. He still mattered. The difference is, now he’s living up to it.

Together, they start to move, long, slow pulls that gradually melt into a faster rhythm. It’s just that at first, the push and pull, the inexact kisses they try and land in between, but then they start to seek more, trying to change the angle and the tempo to heighten everything thrust by thrust.

“Can we… can I go on top?” Blaine asks, wanting to follow his instincts, certain he can trust them for once.

“Sure,” Kurt says. He pulls out carefully before rolling their bodies, tugging Blaine on top of him.

“Sit up,” Blaine tells him, moving back to give him space.

Kurt sits up against the padded headboard, hands reaching out to Blaine as soon as he gets close enough, helping Blaine to straddle his lap. Blaine leans in, kissing him slow and deep, indulging in it, Kurt’s hands sliding down his back to grab his ass. Blaine smiles, breaking the kiss and shifting forward as Kurt takes hold of his own cock, lining it up with Blaine’s hole until it’s pushing bluntly against it.

Blaine sinks down, Kurt letting him go at his own pace. He’s already opened up, but it feels more intense from his angle, bearing down on Kurt’s cock, being in control of the sensation of being filled. As he settles on Kurt’s lap, taking Kurt to the root, Kurt’s hands come up to wrap around his neck, fingers playing through the damp curls at the base of his skull. Blaine hums in approval, leaning in to kiss him again.

He starts to move gradually, rocking his hips back and forth as he keeps Kurt’s cock buried inside him, loving the range of movement this position gives him. Nothing is restricting his hips, he can shift to any position he wants, can change the angle to heighten the sensations. But more than that, he can press his body against Kurt’s, can meet his eyes and kiss his lips and rest their foreheads together. It’s so intimate, sharing the same breaths, but Blaine isn’t pinned down. Kurt will always let him fly, but he’ll tether him when he needs it.

“Better?” Kurt asks, breath hitching, once Blaine is riding his dick in long, firm thrusts.

Blaine nods. “I like your face.”

Kurt lets out a breath of laughter. “I like your face too.”

Blaine just nods again, running his fingers over Kurt’s flushed cheeks before he tilts his hips. It takes a few thrusts for him to perfect the angle, but once he gets it, he can’t help crying out, Kurt’s cock brushing against his prostate every time he sinks down. He tightens at the sensation, Kurt shuddering beneath him, his hands falling to Blaine’s hips. He doesn’t try to direct his movements so much as he seems to be clinging on for dear life.

“You feel incredible,” Kurt hisses out.

“Yes,” Blaine responds, arching his back.

“I love you so much,” Kurt says.

“Yes,” Blaine says again, the word coming out hot and desperate as his cock jumps where it’s curved up against his stomach. He whines, biting down on his lip.

Kurt, as though reading his mind, or maybe just his desperation, trails one hand down Blaine’s hip and grasps his cock firmly in his hand. Blaine moans and loses his rhythm, feeling so many things all at once, so many physical sensations, so many emotions, all of it mixing into a mess of _good good good_.

He can’t hold onto it and he doesn’t even try. His hips stutter, trying to simultaneously thrust down onto Kurt’s cock and up into Kurt’s fist, letting out a sob as his body coils so tightly in on itself he feels like he’s going to break. He doesn’t though, a wave of pleasure rushing over him as he comes over Kurt’s fingers.

Kurt holds him there, grounding him, letting him have his moment. There’s no rush. They have their whole lives to explore the various combinations of this over and over. Right now, Kurt coaxes Blaine through his orgasm with firm pressure and gentle kisses before he’s lifting Blaine by the hips, Kurt’s cock sliding out of him.

“Wait,” Blaine protests.

Kurt smirks at him. “Don’t be a hero.”

Blaine smiles at him in amusement before his eyes fall down to Kurt’s hard, lubed up cock. It gives Blaine a want he can’t even describe. Kurt is already wrapping his hand around it, but Blaine reaches out too, fingers twining with Kurt’s, the two of them stroking together. Kurt’s head falls down onto Blaine’s shoulder, guiding Blaine’s hand in the pace that he needs. Blaine turns his head to the side, nuzzling at Kurt’s temple, breathing him in. He can feel Kurt’s thighs straining under him, his body pressing further into Blaine’s with so much strength, everything winding up as he whines in his throat and then he’s coming, hot and messy between them, Blaine kissing the side of his face as he lets Kurt keep guiding his hand while he comes down again.

They finally untwine their fingers, come sliding slickly between them. Blaine’s instinct is to wipe it on the sheets, but he doesn’t think Kurt would appreciate that. Instead, he reaches for the tissues by the side of the bed as Kurt slumps back against the headboard, looking so utterly, wonderfully fucked out. Blaine does a very half-hearted job at cleaning them both up before discarding everything over the side of the bed and falling contentedly forward to rest against Kurt.

They stay like that for a while, nuzzling at each other until they finally manage to coordinate themselves into a proper kiss. It’s sloppy and imperfect in the way that always makes Blaine feel like he’s home, no pretensions, just love.

As they part, Kurt lifts his head, looking at Blaine carefully. Blaine looks back, frowning slightly.

“You okay?” Kurt asks.

Blaine smiles at him. “Literally never better.”

Kurt leans in to brush another kiss against his lips. “Same.” He gives a little laugh. “You know, there’s something about us and opening nights.”

Blaine thinks back to that night so long ago, _West Side Story_ , forgoing the cast party to lose their virginities to each other in Blaine’s. But now, nobody has to leave. There’s no walking out or being left behind. No hiding, no shame, no rejection, no insecurities or second guessing. Just them. He could stay here forever. If he wants. And he just might.


End file.
